


The Darkest of Times

by writing_as_tracey



Series: Stories from Hogsmeade [2]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Betty-centric, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, M/M, Murder Mystery, Post Hogwarts AU, Post-Hogwarts, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Bughead, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Various Archie Comics Characters Make Appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 193,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_as_tracey/pseuds/writing_as_tracey
Summary: In the small town of Hogsmeade, 6th-year witch Betty Cooper returns from a summer internship to find her entire world upside down: Archie and Jughead aren't speaking, her sister Polly is missing, and Jason Blossom is dead. She's quickly wrapped up in drama with new girl Veronica, getting over her crush on Archie but growing one on Jughead, and wanting to solve Jason's murder and Polly's disappearance. But when you mix magic and murder, nothing is quite like it seems.





	1. Lodge a Complaint

**Author's Note:**

> So, it’s safe to say I am obsessed with the CW and MTV, and although my PhD research focuses on Arrow and The Flash, I’m seriously digging me some Riverdale and thought – "well, I live in the HP fandom, why not combine them?" after seeing a few Riverdale/HP xovers on Ao3.
> 
> This story will follow the trajectory of the Riverdale plot, but obvi I’ll add my own elements of the HP-verse in it. Ideally, it’s not time-situated, as Archie comics is fairly timeless, and there certainly won’t be Harry Potter characters (with minor exceptions), but you’ll see HP references, which will be set after the Battle of Hogwarts, in our current time. All recognizable lines are from the show. 
> 
> Additionally, this story is Betty-centric, as she’s my favourite character, and her relationships with Archie, Jughead, Veronica, and others. The focus is on her, her thoughts and feelings, and how she comes to terms with Cooper family secrets and falling in love.

*

“But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

[ ](http://s32.photobucket.com/user/TraceyT86/media/darkest%20of%20times_zps9u3menx4.jpg.html)

*

_Our story is about a town; a small town and the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world...safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though and you start seeing the shadows underneath..._

*

                When her mother got her the internship to work for the _New York Ghost_ in New York City, through her connections as a lead editor and reporter for the _Daily Prophet_ , Betty was expecting an uncomplicated summer.

                Instead, she returned to London only to learn that Jason Blossom had disappeared and presumed dead, Archie and Jughead were no longer best friends (or talking), and her sister Polly was _persona non grata_ in the Cooper household (as well as missing).

                It baffled her how many things could change in six weeks. When her fifth year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ended, Betty promised herself that sixth year would be when she confesses her crush to Archie; it would be the year she would publish something in the _Prophet_ and become known for more than Alice Cooper’s daughter.

                So, that last week of August, Betty determinedly pushed aside her fears ( _where are you, Polly?_ ) and her anxiety ( _what if Archie says “no”?_ ), and invited her friend, Kevin Keller, over to her house in a nice part of Hogsmeade, in order to help her pick out the perfect outfit to catch Archie’s eyes.

                She could hear him greet her father, who was outside in the front yard working on his enchanted Mustang (“So I can remain close to my Muggleborn roots, Betty,” he would remind her constantly, and then ask, “Hand me the spanner”), and then bound up the stairs. He threw open her bedroom door dramatically and announced, “I am here, Betts!”

                The spent several hours giggling and gossiping,

(“did you hear about Tina?”

“No, what?”

“She was caught smacking a big one Reggie last weekend at his summer house in Wiltshire” and “I’m one-hundred percent sure Moose likes me, Betts, honest”)

                the Weird Sisters playing in the background on Betty’s radio.

                Just as Betty pulled out a floral print summer dress – one bought in New York with this event in mind – Kevin let out an audible gasp.

                “Oh, my, God!”

                Startled, Betty turned from the wardrobe to face her friend, who had his upper body nearly out her second-floor bedroom window.

                “What?”

                “Game changer - Archie got _hot_!” Kevin felt his mouth drop open, and Betty rushed forward to look at what he was looking at her best friend, her (not so) secret crush, and next-door neighbour. Betty and Archie had grown up since birth next-door to one another, and spent year of their childhood between each other’s yards and kitchens. Their bedrooms were directly across from one another, and in their younger years, they would steal their parents’ wands and enchant little slips of paper to fly across the short distance between the two houses.

                Now, though, having not seen her childhood friend for the majority of the summer, Betty wasn’t quite sure what had caught Kevin’s attention until her eyes took in the shirtless redhead, preoccupied with finding a clean t-shirt to wear for dinner with Betty.

                Kevin was nearly breathless as he continued, “He’s got abs now. Six more reasons for you to take that ginger bull by the horns tonight.”

                Betty blushed scarlet and slapped Kevin lightly on the shoulder. “Kev!”

                “What?”

                She bit her lip but let her eyes linger on her friend a moment longer before drawing her curtains and hiding him from their view.

                “You are _so_ on Felix Felicis with that boy, Betty,” he sighed.

                She bit her lip. “I doubt that. Archie’s never done anything to indicate he fancies me.”

                “Because Archie’s swell,” said Kevin with an eye roll. “But, like most millennial straight guys, he needs to be told what he wants. So, tell him, finally.”

                Kevin then flopped down on her bed. “And _you_ are going to tell me all the deets, right? Where are you going anyway? Not _Puddifoots_ , I hope.” He shuddered.

                “No,” said Betty with an eye roll of her own, turning back to her wardrobe and then vanity, critically examining herself in the mirror. “I wanted to catch the Knight Bus and go to Fortesque’s, but Archie wanted something a bit closer so we’re going to the Three Broomsticks.”

                Kevin caught something in her tone. “What, not private enough for your date?”

                “Not really,” agreed Betty.

                “Please,” scoffed the brown-haired lanky teen. “The Three will be teeming with everyone; they’ll all get a good look at the two of you. We all know you’re endgame, anyway.”

                Betty didn’t reply, leaning forward to apply a coat of gloss she picked up in Muggle London when visiting her father’s parents.

                _And what if he says he doesn’t like me_? She wondered. That kind of rejection front of everyone they knew would be horrifying.

                She felt a bubble burst in her stomach and tiny spots of black appeared before her eyes – her room was too bright – and her breaths were getting shorter and quicker –

                “Betty?”

                Betty whirled and plastered a smile on her face for Kevin, who was looking at her with a tiny frown and pinched brow.

                “I’ll call you on my mirror tonight, Kev, promise,” she said, and Kevin smiled.

                She slowly unclenched her hands.

*

                Archie wasn’t listening. She could tell that right away, and the bubble of anxiety in her stomach was combating with the flutters of nerves; it was like a rollicking storm in her stomach and she kept talking, hoping that eventually she would say something that would catch his interest.

                “... the book launch for Gilderoy Lockhart was absolutely amazing,” she gushed, eyes bright and wide, hands deliberately flat on the worn, smooth wooden table of their booth at the Three Broomstick’s. “I mean, he’s a total fraud, but that new book he wrote about his journey of self-discovery, wow! That marketing team really knew what they were doing since his stay at Mungo’s.”

                “Uh huh,” replied Archie, his eyes drawn over her shoulder to the door and open pane that opened to the main street of Hogsmeade. A tinkle of the bells above the door chimed as a new customer walked in.

                Disheartened, Betty continued on, her voice pitched slightly higher. “He should totally be in the Az, of course – _Obliviate_ isn’t something you should throw around like a Cheering Charm, is it? But I suppose losing his own memory to a faulty spell is really awful enough to live with...”

                Archie’s eyes were caught on something just beyond her, behind, and Betty trailed off. She turned slightly in the booth seat, looking over her shoulder.

                Her heart dropped.

                Archie was known to like pretty, glossy things, whether they were young witches or snitches. As long as they shone bright enough, his eye would be on them, and this one that just walked in was the shiniest she had seen in some time.

                Her hair was shoulder-length, straight and black; her eyes dark and her lips painted a dark red. Her outfit was pure Muggle: a LBD with thin, killer heel booties but wrapped around her shoulders was a fluffy, feathery cape that Betty had seen once in an ad at Madam Malkin’s.

                She was walking like she own the Three Broomsticks – confident and poised – and the noise of the Friday night patrons seemed to disappear in the seconds it took her to lock her eyes on the two of them.

                Archie abandoned his butterbeer to turn his attention to the new girl, who stopped at their table and spoke, loudly at them both, “I’ve just moved here so I’m unfamiliar with what’s good, but the Three Broomstick’s is said to have the best. What do you suggest?”

                “Hi!” greeted Archie with a wide smile. Betty’s heart stopped. “Everything’s good here. Madam Rosmerta makes the best _everything_. But I’d recommend the dragon burgers, and a side of rings.”

                “Then that’s what I’ll order,” nodded the girl, turning slightly to flag Rosmerta, calling her order: “Two dragon burgers and a side of rings, please!”

                After the pretty barmaid nodded, indicating she heard, the girl turned back to them, eyes darting between the two. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

                “Actually, you are—” began Betty the same time Archie loudly said, “Not at all! Why don’t you join us?”

                Betty ducked her head and felt flames spread across her cheeks.

                “It’s okay,” the girl said, correctly reading the situation, as her eyes lingered on Betty a bit longer. “I’m just here for dinner as I settle in.” She looked around the dark and cozy pub, and then turned back at the two.

                “Where did you live before?” asked Archie. Betty was content at him leading the conversation she wanted nothing part of.

                “Daddy had business everywhere, but we were last in Berlin,” answered the girl. “Before that, Paris; and before that, New York for several years. There was a brief moment in Singapore, too.”

                “Wow! So you’ve been at Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Ilvermorny, and a whole lot of other schools, too, then.” Archie looked impressed and slightly star struck.

                The girl sighed. “Yes, but I’m filled with dread.”

                Archie frowned. “Why’s that?”

                “Are you familiar with the works of Truman Capote?” she asked.

                Archie shook his head but Betty determinedly said nothing.

                “He’s a Muggle author; and I’m _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ but this place is strictly _In Cold Blood_ ,” said ended her sentence with dramatic flair, and an airy wave of her hand.

                Archie snorted a laugh and Betty stared.

                With the ice broken, the girl held out a hand at Archie. “I’m Veronica. I’m starting at Hogwarts next week.”

                “Archie,” he said, shaking her hand. “And this is Betty. What year are you going in?”

                “Sixth,” answered Veronica, smiling. “You?”

                “Same,” said Archie. “And now you’ll know at least two people!”

                “I’m glad for that, it’s no fun being the new girl,” agreed Veronica. “I’m supposed to meet with a sixth year prefect on the train. They’ll introduce me to Hogwarts and help me around... someone Cooper?”

                “That’s Betty,” cheerfully supplied Archie, turning to his quiet childhood friend.

                Betty forced a smile on her face and drew her arms close to her body in response, trying to make herself as small as possible. “Hi.”

                “Perfect,” said Veronica, with a sharp-toothed smile. “I can see that we’re already going to be the best of friends.”

                “Order up!” called Rosmerta, and Veronica turned towards her voice.

                “I’ll see you in a few days, then,” said Veronica with a tiny wave of goodbye. The two in the booth watched her collect her food at the bar, and then leave, turning and walking down the main street until she was beyond their gaze.

                “Isn’t she great?” asked Archie, turning back to Betty.

                Betty smiled weakly, her dreams of asking Archie out for the first Hogsmeade weekend at Hogwarts dying a quiet death in her mouth. “Yeah. Great.”

                It was going to be a long year.

*

                Betty never understood why residents of Hogsmeade had to travel to London just to catch the Hogwarts Express back up to Hogsmeade in Scotland. It was stupid and quite a waste of time. It did give her time with Archie – and previously, Jughead – but this year, she knew she was going to find a compartment with Kevin and rant about her disastrous date. Although he heard most of it via enchanted linked mirror (something she had made for an extra-credit Charms assignment that Flitwick had overseen), she felt the need to ask for more clarity.

                Early the morning of September 1st, Betty began readying her usual armour: she already wore her Hufflepuff uniform (“Why did it have to be Hufflepuff?” her mother had exclaimed in her visit home her first Yule after being Sorted, “Why not Slytherin like me? Are you really that much like your father?”), and with practised hands, she smoothed the pleated skirt and straightened her yellow and black tie.

                She applied a light sheen of gloss on her lips, and then tied her hair back with a bobble, her ponytail high and her hair firmly pulled back. She ran a critical eye over herself in the mirror.

                “Are you ready?”

                Her mother’s sharp voice surprised her, and she turned, leaning on her vanity. “Mom!”

                “Betty,” her mother, Alice Cooper, coolly assessed her daughter. As blonde as Betty with green eyes, those were their only similarities. Alice Cooper was cool, assessing and the quintessential Slytherin, her old house. Nothing was out of place with her carefully styled hair, or her applied makeup glamours; her robes were of high quality from Tattling and Taffit’s, cut to accentuate her figure in a soft rose pastel.  

                “NEWTs are coming up, dear. Are you ready for earning straight Os? I won’t accept anything less,” Alice Cooper continued, while Betty bit her tongue. “And you need at least two extra-curriculars for your post-NEWT applications. I’d like to see you attending the Institute of Magic and Spells for your Mastery in Transfiguration. I don’t want another owl from McGonagall, telling me that you’re only at EEs. You need to work harder in it, Elizabeth.”

                “I don’t even like Transfiguration,” mumbled Betty, eyes downcast.

                Her mother hummed, and then reached into Betty’s bedside drawer. “How’s your anxiety? Are you taking your medicine?” She pulled out a nearly empty glass bottle of lingering blue liquid. “You’re almost out of calming draught. I’ll stop by the apothecary and ask for a refill for you. And I’ll owl Promfrey later to make sure you have extra when you’re at Hogwarts.”

                “Mom,” pled Betty quietly.

                “No one likes a loser, Elizabeth.”

                Betty pursed her lips and curled her fingers into her fists, staring at her mother. Finally, she said, quietly, “I’m going to miss the Express if you don’t Apparate me. Otherwise, I’ll take the Floo.”

                “It’s best you Floo, dear,” said Alice, “Your father and I are going straight to the _Prophet_. Take care and have a good year, Elizabeth. Make good choices.”

                With that said, her mother turned on her heels, leaving Betty alone in her room.

                “I _always_ make good choices,” muttered Betty in the silence of her room.

                “Well, that sounds horribly boring,” piped up her mirror.

                Betty cut a glance at it and scowled. “No one asked _you_ ,” and then, knowing she lived in a magical area, tapped the frame with her wand and mutter, “ _Silencio_.”

                It was petty, but she felt better about it.

*

                The train was full, as usual, and as soon as she was done with the prefect’s meeting (along with her fellow male Hufflepuff prefect, Trev Brown), Betty knew she had to seek out Veronica and begin the orientation that Weatherbee had owled her about earlier that summer.

                She found Veronica with Kevin – strangely enough – alone in a compartment, laughing and joking as if they had been friends for years.

                “Veronica, hello,” Betty greeted her as she slid open the compartment door.

                “Betty!” the girl trilled, standing and reaching forward with a greeting hug. “Kev here was just telling me about Hogwarts. Isn’t it fabulous I find the only gay man in all of Hogwarts in the first compartment I looked into?”

                Kevin beamed at Betty from over Veronica’s shoulder, and mouthed, “ _She’s amazing_!”

                Betty forced a tight smile on her lips. “Do you want me to explain about the House system? I know Durmstrang and Beauxbatons don’t have them.”

                “Illvermory did, but different to here,” added Veronica, nodding. “What house are you both in, then?”

                “Betty’s Hufflepuff,” declared Kevin loudly, settling back down on his side of the compartment seat, stretching lankily out. Betty gingerly sat next to Veronica on the seat across from him, but closer to the window. “She’s our year’s darling – sweet and loyal and practically perfect in every way. Our very own Mary Poppins.”

                Beyond their compartment door, a large group of teenage boys loudly shoved by; one redhead in particular managed to stop and wave hello before continuing; both Kevin and Betty had reciprocated. Veronica sighed.

                “Oh! There’s the hottie we were with last night. Is that ginger Popsicle your boyfriend? What house is he in?” asked Veronica, looking for gossip and attempting to ease her way into Betty’s friendship with the opportunity for talking about boys.

                “He’s straight,” Kevin confessed, while Betty fingered the ends of her ponytail demurely and said, quietly, “Oh, no, we’re just friends,” at the same time.

                “But you were on a date,” argued Veronica, looking back and forth between Kevin and Betty, who was looking out the window determinedly and ignoring everything but the passing English countryside of the midlands. “Or... in that case, mind putting in a word? I’ve tried every flavor of boy but orange.”

                “Actually, to clarify: Archie and Betty are _endgame_ ,” whispered Kevin, not at all attempting to keep his voice down. Veronica turned to him. “They’re childhood best friends, the girl next door with the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and all-around star Chaser. They’re the perfect story – the Hogsmeade story!”

                “I’m hardly perfect, Kev,” mumbled Betty.

                “Hufflepuff, Gryffindor,” murmured Veronica. “Got it.” She eyed the blonde. “So what happened that night? I totally thought you were an item.”

                “I’ve never...” Betty trailed off. She cleared her throat and then said, “Kev here is a Gryffindor with Archie, and one of his dormmates. As you can see, Gryffindors are loud and bold, and if you like listening to the Slytherins, they’re the stereotypical dumb jocks. Quidheads.”

                Veronica laughed. “And what do people say about the Slytherins then?”

                “Mean, petty, cruel,” sighed Kevin. “They’re mostly cunning and ambitious, and most politicians come from that house.”

                Betty nodded, adding, “Contrary to popular, recent events, they’re not all evil wanna-be Death Eaters.”

                “But,” piped up Kevin, “they’re still mostly purebloods and although there aren’t Death Eaters anymore, we do have the Serpents.”

                “The Serpents?” asked Veronica, breathlessly and eagerly soaking up the knowledge of Hogwarts.

                Betty looked away and Kevin nodded. “Yeah, the Serpents. My dad is Head Auror and they are this local gang – you find them mostly in Knockturn, of course – who run a lot of drugs and illegal potions. But sometimes they hang out in Hogsmeade when it’s our Hogmseade days because some students go to them for stuff. They’re like... Death Eater-lite. No Muggle baiting, no derogatory slurs to Muggleborns, but definitely rabble-rousers.”

                “Exciting,” deadpanned Veronica.

                Kevin leaned forward again, caught up in the moment of illicit gossip. “Is it true what they say about your dad?”

                 Veronica stiffened, her body tensing as she replied stoically, “That he’s the devil incarnate? I stand by my father. Does everyone here know?”

                Betty and Kevin shared a look, and an awkward silence descended upon the compartment. Veronica scowled and crossed her arms.

                “Ten minutes in and I’m already the Andromeda Tonks of Hogwarts,” she sighed.

                “It’ll be okay,” said Betty quietly. “You’re just new and gossip worthy. Within twenty minutes of being back at Hogwarts, someone will do something stupid”—

                “—likely Reggie or Moose, potentially Archie,” interrupted Kevin quickly.

                “—and your father will be forgotten,” concluded Betty with a tight, but genuine smile.

                Veronica sighed. “Merlin, I hope so.”

*

                Upon exiting the train at Hogsmeade station, Veronica was hailed by a nervous-looking Professor Grundy, the Muggle Studies professor who had taken over after the previous professor had left (citing that there was too much of Charity Burbage left in the room and giving off bad juju), in order to attend her Sorting ahead of the new first years.

                Betty and Kevin waved goodbye to her, and bumped into Archie, whom Betty noticed was staring after the new girl again. With a sigh, she brightly enquired about his train journey, learning he had sat with Reggie, Moose and Chuck – all other Quidheads and Quidditch players for their house teams – but was going to join them in the carriages to the castle.

                Betty frowned, and let her eyes scan the busy platform. _Where’s Jug?_ She wondered, eyes darting back and forth and not finding their friend.

                Instead, Kevin swept her towards the carriages, and then before she knew it, they were in the Great Hall: Betty at her usual seat at the Hufflepuff table between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, back-to-back with Archie and Kevin at their spots at Gryffindor. She faced the Ravenclaw table, and spotted Ethel, who waved; her eyes stumbled beyond and finally – _finally!_ – spotted Jughead slouched at the end of the Slytherin table, furthest from the Head Table and closest to the main doors for a quick getaway. His dark head was bowed, looking at something in his lap, and he was ignoring his housemates (although that was usual). Betty felt her heart squeeze at the idea that he didn’t even want to say hello to her after not speaking all summer.

                Her attention waned the second a dozen small, quivering bodies appeared from the side door, ready to be Sorted. Veronica towered over them all, standing just slightly to the side confidently with her hands clasped in front of her.

                “Can I have your attention please?” called McGonagall, her reedy voice strongly amplified by a _Sonorous_ and immediately quietening the entire Hall. “Before we commence the Sorting, I am pleased to welcome Miss Veronica Lodge to Hogwarts, joining the sixth years. She has been Sorted and will be joining Hufflepuff.”

                The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers, and Betty slid over so that Veronica could join her as soon as the girl dashed down the rows.

                “Congratulations,” greeted Betty.

                “Thanks,” the raven-haired girl whispered back, her non-descript black tie slowly changing to add in the Hufflepuff yellow stripes, and then her Hogwarts crest on her blazer changed to the grey badger surrounded by yellow ribbon.

                After the Sorting, and a delicious Welcome Back Feast dinner, Betty and Trev hustled the new first-year ‘Puffs to their sett, providing them with the password (“you tap the barrels in this order, you’d best remember it or get drenched with vinegar”) before separating and making their way to their respective dormitories.

                Veronica was already there, standing in the middle of the rectangular room and eyeing the several round windows that spanned along the entire far wall. Moonlight spilled in.

                “We’re literally a sett,” explained Betty, catching the other girl’s attention. “We’re just slightly under level with the first floor, so we see a lot of the grounds from our windows but most people ignore Hufflepuff and fail to realize that we’re even here.”

                Veronica _hmm_ ed. “Don’t you have other dormmates?”

                Betty shook her head. “The years around ours are incredibly small; no baby boom for our generation! I was the only female Hufflepuff for my entire year until you joined. Gryffindor has several sixth years: Valerie Brown, Midge Klump, and Nancy Woods. Ravenclaw has a bunch, too: Ethel Muggs, Melody Valentine, Cricket O’Dell, and Brigitte Reilley. Slytherin has Josie McCoy, Ginger Lopez, and Tina Patel, although she’s a year younger than us – she just moved up a year because she’s smart but not curious about learning for learning’s sake – Ravenclaw was out. You’ll want to avoid Ginger and Tina if you can, but they don’t pay much attention to their year mates. They hang out with Cheryl Blossom, the reigning queen of Slytherin. She’s a seventh year now.”

                Veronica stared. “Are you telling me, that in an entire year group, you’re the only one considered ‘loyal’ and ‘friendly’ and ‘hardworking’?”

                “If you want to play with stereotypes that Hufflepuffs are duffers, sure,” shrugged Betty. “I guess that is how I got my reputation, especially being the only girl.”

                Betty moved towards her warm, honey-brushed wooden queen bed. “The benefits of having the room to myself was a large bed,” she grinned at Veronica, motioning to the equally large wooden bed opposite of hers, mirroring Betty’s side of the room.

                The bed wasn’t a four-poster like in Gryffindor or Slytherin; it was a large, heavy wooden bed with slats, covered with a bounty of pillows in varying shades of yellow, interspersed with black throw pillows. Each bed had a unique patchwork quilt folded at the foot of each bed, on top of warm, puffy pale yellow duvets.

                There were bedside tables on either side, and two desks pushed up underneath the windows with short, three-shelved bookshelves next to them. Betty’s was already half-full with books, evenly spaced and sorted by subject and year.

                The floor under both their beds was covered with a thick grey carpet, and Betty itched to curl her toes in the warm shag. The rest of the floor was polished and shining wood.

                To ensure privacy, the girls did have two matching wooden dividers tucked into corners of the bedroom, nearer to the front, circular door that they entered with a matching set of low drawers for their clothing. On Veronica’s side of the room, another circular door (“Hobbit holes,” laughed Veronica when she poker her head in) led to the girls’ private fifth-year bathroom. It was another warm room with wood floor and a large porcelain tub and glass shower, two antique pedestal sinks, and two large circular mirrors hanging over the sinks.

                Veronica sighed, falling onto her bed and saying happily, “I think I’ll really like it here.”

                Betty smiled. “It’s going to be really nice having you as a roommate, Veronica.”

*

                School began on a Friday, September 2nd.

                Their cohort was small, one of the smallest since the days of Harry Potter, with the girls adding up to twelve, just like the boys; due to that, many of the electives held small classes of just six or less and as such, the entire year all knew one another and often hung out. Rivalries still happened though, so to combat against the long-standing traditional grudges between Gryffindor and Slytherin, classes were split Gryffindor/Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw/Slytherin, except for electives.

                Veronica and Betty shared Arithmacy, but Betty was without her new friend for her NEWT-level Ancient Runes. Otherwise, they had all their core NEWT classes (Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense) together with Archie and Kevin.

                Instead, Betty caught back up with Veronica before lunch, and the two decided to grab a meal from the kitchens near their common room and eat outside by the lake. Archie and Kevin, who had NEWT-Divination with Veronica before lunch that Friday, joined them. The weather was still balmy and clear, the final, last gasps of Scottish summer.

                “How’s your first day going?” Archie asked Veronica, once everyone had nearly finished their lunch.

                “Not to be a complete narcissist, but I thought people would be more...” Veronica trailed off.

                “Obsessed with you?” Kevin interjected. “Any other year, you’d be trending number one, for sure. This year, though, it’s all about Cheryl trying to win the Best Supporting Psycho Oscar for her role as Hogwarts bereaved Red Widow.”

                “But I thought her brother is missing?” asked Veronica.

                “Officially missing,” added Kevin. “But declared dead by the Blossoms.”

                Archie had a small recording stone, a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product, where you could record up to ten-minutes of sound for playback. He was fiddling with it, and Veronica jumped in, in order to change the tone of the conversation. “What is _that_ , Archiekins?”

                Archie blushed, a light rose colour that didn’t settle on his cheeks too well with his bright red hair. “Just a song that I was working on this summer.”

                “Well, play it,” demanded Veronica.

                Betty and Kevin nodded encouragingly, and so Archie drew his wand and tapped on the stone, activating it. A swell of guitar chords built and then Archie’s gravelly voice sang about love, love lost, and love found.

                “Very nice,” admired Veronica when it was done.

                “It’s great, Archie,” said Betty with warmth.

                “Thanks,” he replied bashfully, ducking his head and slipping the stone back into his pocket. “I’ve been working on it all summer, and my dad and I are disagreeing on focusing on that or Quidditch.”

                While Kevin and Betty made sympathetic noises, Veronica asked, “What _is_ the fascination of Quidditch? It’s all over Europe like venereal disease. Now, in America, _Quodpot_ —”

                “Quodpot!?” exclaimed Kevin and Archie, causing Betty and Veronica to laugh.

                “Well, hello plebs,” broke in a sugary-sweet voice laced with arsenic, “Veronica Lodge. I’d heard whisperings. I’m Cheryl Blossom. May I sit?”

                The foursome looked up from their picnic at the lake to spot another redhead looming over them. Her long red hair caught the afternoon sun, turning it nearly blood red; she artfully pulled of the green/red combo of Christmas with her Slytherin tie and green skirt.

She was holding out a hand for Veronica to shake. Veronica did so reluctantly. She then demurely sat; her knees pressed together and off to the side, her skirt spread across her thighs. “I’m a seventh year, and captain of the cheerleading team here at Hogwarts. You absolutely must join.”

                “We have a cheer squad?” asked Veronica skeptically. “And only one, not per House?”

                Cheryl nodded. “One of the many changes made to Hogwarts when we entered the twenty-first century: cheerleading teams, year-related common rooms elsewhere in the castle and not just house common rooms, more electives, more clubs and hobbies, and better still: more dances and parties and for upper years, more opportunity to go into town on weekends.”

                “A lot of previous alumni felt Hogwarts didn’t offer enough for students,” added Betty quietly.

                Cheryl turned to Betty and with her sweet saccharine voice, piped, “Right you are, Bettikins! But what I came here to say offer you a spot on the Hogwarts Dragons.” She finished by looking directly at Veronica. “Someone with your calibre and class doesn’t need to sit with these losers when you can join my friends and I.”

                Kevin looked Cheryl up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Is cheerleading still a thing?”

                She eyed him derisively and spat back, equally fast, “Is being the gay best friend still a thing?”

                Kevin humphed and folded his arms, looking over the lake in reply.

                Veronica eyed the new interloper, before smiling brightly. “At Beauxbatons, I sat at the top of the Elite’s pyramid. I’m in. Betty, you’re trying out, too.”

                “What?” both Betty and Cheryl exclaimed at the same time. Cheryl scowled and then hesitantly added, once Veronica turned a dark gaze on her, “Of course Bettikins is welcomed to try out.”

                Her eyes dipped to the sandwich and side selection the elves had provided for her and Veronica in the small baskets. “But you already have so much on your... plate. And that hasn’t changed since last year – in fact, it might have grown!”

                Betty blushed and put down the apple she was going to take a bite out of slowly. Veronica scowled.

                Cheryl turned back to Veronica and said brightly, “Saturday, after lunch on the Quidditch pitch. Until then, Ronnie! Kisses.”

                 “Ugh,” complained Kevin, eyeing the redhead as she strode away, back towards the castle.

                “Double ugh,” agreed Veronica. “Is she always like that? Thank Merlin you’ll be with me, Betty. I don’t think I could handle being a Hogwarts Dragon with the bitchiest dragon of them all, 24/7.”

                “I doubt I’ll get on the team,” muttered Betty. “I tried out last year and wasn’t very good.”

                 “Nonsense!” chirped Veronica. “You are sunshine on a stick and sexy as anything, Betty Cooper, and make Cheryl look like a krup in comparison. I’ve never known someone as hardworking and intelligent. You’re going to be the one helping _me_ learn the routine.”

                Betty smiled tentatively back at Veronica, who wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her new friend towards her.

                “You’ll see,” the raven-haired girl continued. “You and me? We’re going to be like a permanent sticking charm. Glued together, forever.”

*

                It didn’t quite work out.

                Veronica was sexy and confident and pulled off all the twirls and hip rolls and swaggers required for their routine, but Betty, although doing the same, was definitely more nervous and tightly strung. Her mother would _Avada_ her if she knew what Betty was doing, and it showed in Betty’s performance.

                Cheryl knew it, too, as did Tina and Ginger on either side of her on the pitch, self-writing floating quills above their clipboards.

                With a few mocking claps, Cheryl began. “Blah, blah, blah. Dull and uninspired. Ronniekins’ got the moves but Betty dear, you’re just too sugar quill for a Dragon. I need firewhiskey, I need fiendfyre and you, little _lumos_ , don’t have it.”

                Betty swallowed heavily the lump in her throat.

                “You want fire, Cheryl?” demanded Veronica, who turned to Betty, whispered, “trust me,” and then reached forward and pulled the slightly taller blonde towards her and pressed her lips against hers.

                “Oh, Morgana’s tits!” burst out Cheryl. “Fake lesbian kisses, Veronica? Really? That was so lame and ten years ago. That’s _not_ fire.”

                “Fire?” laughed Veronica darkly. “You don’t want _fire_ , Cheryl – you’re dealing with a Lodge. We are _ice_. Don’t start something with me just because you think I’m the new rich girl who can be another Dementor, you soul-sucking bitch. You want to fight? Cool, you’ll get it. But don’t think for one second I’ll back down. I’ve dealt with Dark Art-wielding girls in Durmstrang and hoighty-toighty in Beauxbatons; I think I can handle a little _fire_ in Cheryl Blossom at Hogwarts.”

                Cheryl crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Well then.”

                She snapped her fingers and the hovering, self-writing quills stood straight and quivered in readiness.

                “Interview time,” she simpered, and turned her eyes on Betty. “Tell me, Bettikins, how is dear Polly doing?”

                “I- uh,” stuttered Betty, before taking a deep breath and answering, “Fine, thank you.”

                “Really? Haven’t seen her back here for her seventh year,” continued Cheryl viciously. “Does she not have anything to say about my dear brother’s disappearance? Does she not talk about Jason at all?”

                Betty’s fingers curled into her fists. “I don’t know. We don’t talk about your brother.”

                “Really?” mocked Cheryl, bringing a red-tipped nail to her chest. “At all? Even though they were dating all sixth year? Nothing else to say, then Bettikins? Perfect Polly and Perfect Betty, always so polite and kind. How sickening. Aren’t you glad about Jason’s disappearance? I bet you are, and Polly even more so. She’s a bitch, leading my dear brother on with her wiles.”

                She waited a beat, letting her goads settle onto Betty’s shoulders and mind. The anxiety built inside Betty, and now it was a roaring wind, deafening her to Cheryl’s accusations and words. She was close to seeing red, but – she was a prefect. She couldn’t fight back, she had to set an example for the other students. And Betty knew that Cheryl was wrong about Polly, too.

                “Nothing to say back, Betty? I’m waiting. I want to see your fire. Cry, shout, deny! Anything.”

                Betty saw Veronica looking at her, concernedly, but swallowed heavily, ducked her chin and said, “No. I’ll pass on your concerns to Polly, Cheryl. She’d like that.”

                Silence fell on the pitch.

                “How disappointing,” murmured Cheryl, eventually, eyeing the blonde. She turned her head to Veronica and snapped her fingers at her. “Ronnie, welcome to the Dragons. Betty – better luck next year. Maybe the new captain will take pity on you.”

                “Krupshit!” snapped Veronica. “If Betty’s not on the team, neither am I. And we both know you want me, Cheryl.”

                An uncomfortable silence settled on the five girls, and Cheryl pursed her lips as she turned to confer with Ginger and Tina, both girls giving Veronica stink-eye. Ginger tossed up a _Muffilato_ , and neither Betty or Veronica could hear what was being discussed.

                The spell dropped and Cheryl turned with a pinched look on her face. “Fine. Betty’s a Dragon. Grab a uniform from the lockers. Practice is every morning from six to seven, with the exception of Saturdays and Sundays, where we practice from eight to nine on the pitch. Practice begins Monday morning. _Don’t_ be late.”

                Cheryl, Tina, and Ginger turned and left the pitch, leaving Veronica and Betty to hug and squeal with happiness. That joy held strong, even after putting on their new uniforms and heading back to the castle.

                “You didn’t have to do that,” whispered Betty to Veronica, as they left the locker room and moved around the outside of the pitch.

                “Yes I did, B,” replied the other girl steadily. “You’re my best friend. Where you go, I go, remember?”

                “But... back in Berlin, and Paris, and New York...?”

                Veronica sighed. “I was once like Cheryl. And looking back, I hated who I was. And then, when Daddy was sent to jail... well. We received all these Howlers and hate mail and bobby-trapped bits that were... _horrible_. That Daddy was a thief, and mom a clueless socialite. The worst part? It was all true. I didn’t want to be that person anymore. Coming here, to London, to Hogwarts? It’s a fresh start, a chance to become someone better.”

                Betty nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

                Veronica turned to her and asked, carefully, “What was that about Polly and Jason?”

                Betty sighed. “My sister and her brother. They dated all last year. It meant... _everything_ to Polly. She kept saying Jason was her soul mate, her James Potter. It didn’t mean a damn thing to Jason, though. That relationship with toxic; they were constantly yelling and breaking up and making up, and my parents _hated_ Jason. One day, my mom snapped and had enough to tell her she was forbidden from seeing him again.”

                She turned and looked at the pitch, where they could see several of their years’ Quidditch players on their brooms, holding an impromptu, uneven Quidditch match. The red of Archie’s Gryffindor jersey matched the red of his hair, and he stood out like a beacon.

                “Jason might have broken Polly’s heart, but my mother broke Polly in all the ways Jason never could,” finished Betty solemnly.

                Veronica sighed, winding her arm through Betty’s and clutching it. “That’s tragic, B... but that was also _Polly_ and not you.” Her eyes darted up to see Betty’s object of fancy. “Why haven’t you asked him out, yet?”

                “I’m afraid of rejection,” said Betty quietly, eyes still on her childhood friend, who had noticed the two girls and was lazily drifting down towards them. “I’m afraid that I’ve loved him for so long I’m in love with the _idea_ of Archie and me as a couple. What if reality doesn’t match, V?”

                “You won’t know until you ask him to the Back to School semi-formal next weekend,” grinned Veronica.                             

                Betty groaned, hearing Veronica chant, “Do it, do it, do it,” under her breath as Archie came to a hovered stop in front of both girls. He hopped off his Nimbus 2020, and grinned at both Betty and Veronica, his red hair tousled and windswept.

                “Hello, my lovely ‘Puffs,” he said brightly, eyeing their matching black and grey Hogwarts cheer uniforms. “Or should that be, hello my two lovely new Dragons?”

               “Careful, Archiekins,” grinned Veronica, “ _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_.”

                He laughed. “Too right!”

                “Anyway, Betty has something she wants to ask,” artfully said Veronica, dragging Archie’s attention from the vibrant raven-haired beauty to his peppy blonde childhood friend.

                “Archie,” began Betty slowly, licking her lips. “Would you... would... would you—” she took a deep, heavy breath and rushed out, “V and I don’t have dates to the Back to School semi next week. Would you take us both?”

                “Of course!” agreed Archie immediately. “I’ll be taking the two prettiest girls at Hogwarts; one on each arm.”

                “Great!” chirped Betty, with a wide smile and bright eyes; she could feel the heavy stare from Veronica at her side. “Well, see you later at dinner.”

                “Bye!” he shouted, and slung his leg back over his Nimbus and shot straight up into the sky, where he joined the Quidditch game by grabbing a soaring ball, speeding off towards the Keeper’s goalposts.

                Veronica sighed. “Really, B?”

                “At least he said ‘yes,’ Veronica,” said Betty lightly. “Don’t take that from me. It’s a good first step.”

                Veronica rolled her eyes. “This is me formally placing a complaint for being the inevitable third wheel.”

                “It won’t come to that, I promise,” said Betty, earnestly.

                “We’ll see,” is all Veronica said.

                Betty hoped otherwise, after all, Archie had finally said “yes” to her, for a date – even if there was one extra joining the group. It was a ray of sunshine worth smiling for, in the summer-long night.

**

TBC...

**

 


	2. Heartbreak Blossom(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all recognizable lines below to the show. I'm just borrowing them.

The Darkest of Times

*

II: Heartbreak Blossom(s)

*

 **Jason Lee Scott** : You want to be a better person, start with erasing that picture!

 **Kimberly Hart** : I can’t erase this!

 **Jason Lee Scott** : You don’t have to erase this! Don’t be what you think others want you to be, just be what you want to be.

\-- Power Rangers (movie), 2017

*

                Although the Back to School semiformal was more than a week away, Betty didn’t have time to think about it or plan what she would wear. That weekend was her only free weekend until the Yule Holidays; Dragon practice began early Monday morning, and homework had already been set in Care of Magical Creatures, her only non-elective Friday class. The other classes were suspended until the following week.

                She still had to find another extracurricular, as per her mother’s ~~request~~ (read: demand). Betty didn’t want to leave it until the very last minute, either; clubs filled up and friendships were made within those first two weeks of school and it would be very hard to slot herself in. Her extracurricular activities last year had been choir and debate, but a nasty bout of Dragon Pox in April had sent her to the Infirmary for most of choir practices and she quickly deemed the material too advanced for her to catch up in time (and they had already assigned people their parts, forgetting Betty). Debate was all right, but like Cheryl had already pointed out: Betty just didn’t have the innate _zing_ necessary for combative discussion.

                _Perhaps mom will let me do an extra credit assignment with Professors Flitwick and Babbling instead?_ thought Betty, contemplatively frowning and tapping a nail on her closed mouth. She sat at the Hufflepuff table, Veronica at her side, for breakfast that Monday morning. They had finished a rather gruelling Hogwarts Dragons practice – and Betty knew she was going to need to step up her coordination game.

                “What do people do for fun around here?” Veronica asked, catching Betty’s attention from peeling an orange. Veronica was looking around the half-full Great Hall. “I mean – it’s a boarding school. Limited class time. Limited extracurricular time. That’s a lot of free time.”

                From behind, Kevin snorted. When Veronica turned to glance at him over her shoulder, he grinned and wriggled his eyebrows. “Parties.”

                “Parties?” echoed Veronica in disbelief. “One: How? Two: Where? And thirdly: When?”

                Kevin twisted around on the Gryffindor bench to face Betty and Veronica, his expression lighting up as he explained. “Since Cheryl reigns as Supreme Leader, she plans all the parties. As to where? In the dungeons, just past the Slytherin entrance. And finally – after the Back to School semi. That’s tradition, no matter who is running Hogwarts. I’d imagine by next year, it’ll be a tossup between somewhere near Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, depending on which girl becomes top witch of Hogwarts. My sickle's on Betty.”

                Veronica hummed thoughtfully. “And people just take it for granted that we should have formal wear packed away?”

                Kevin flushed slightly. “Yeah, kind of.”

                “B, do you have a dress?” asked an incredulous Veronica, turning to face her friend. Betty had been following the conversation halfheartedly, unsure if she wanted to, or cared about, attending Cheryl’s post-semi party in the dungeons. She had gone last year, at Polly’s insistence, and was relatively left alone due to her familial relationship with the Slytherin King’s girlfriend – but she’d have no protection this year. Those parties were notorious for getting out of control until Professor Slughorn would show up, threatening points (and making mental notes of the best behaved of the bunch for his Slug Parties).

                Betty put down her half-peeled orange and nodded. “I have a few packed away, but if we need anything, the sixth years can visit Hogsmeade every weekend, on top of Hogsmeade days. We could always go to Gladrags and find something or Owl order it.”

                Veronica waved a hand. “No worries – I have something stashed away. I was just curious. New school, right? Need to learn the ins and outs.”

                With that said, she pulled out their schedule and groaned. “Ugh, Transfiguration, Defense, and Charms today.”

                “And Literature for me,” added Betty, absently reaching for her orange again. “A long day.”

                “Why is Literature on your schedule?” asked Veronica, tipping forward to see Betty’s, which she had out. Veronica placed hers next and compared the two schedules. She gave a low whistle, and even Kevin’s eyebrows jumped up.

                “Filling your schedule much, Betty?” asked Kevin rhetorically, looking at the amount of extra classes she was taking. “Literature, Ancient Runes, Arithmacy, _and_   Languages 2? That’s four electives, two at NEWT-level on top of your core courseload.”

                “The Board suggested adding more electives for the third and fifth years that carry through to their NEWT year,” explained Betty, facing first Veronica. “Like there are more clubs and activities. You said it yourself: boarding school, lots of free time. Not a good combination, especially back in the Harry Potter days.”

                “Hence, more classes,” sighed Veronica, glancing back at her schedule and her four electives: Divination, Law and Civics, Arithmacy, and Languages 1.

                “Well, _I_ for one, am perfectly happy with my Divination, Law and Civics, and Muggle Studies electives,” announced Kevin loftily.

                Betty shot him a narrow-eyed look. “You grew up like a Muggleborn until a year before Hogwarts, Kev. Muggle Studies is an easy NEWT-level O for you.”

                “Not my fault that my parents divorced and I lived with my mom and not my dad,” replied Kevin with a faux sniff of disdain, his grin blunting any harshness his words might cause.

                “We’d best get moving – else Professor Flutesnoot is going to dock us points,” sighed Betty, not looking forward to Transfiguration. It was not her favourite subject, and although she held an EE in the course, her mother’s monthly owls to McGonagall regarding why she was not getting Os ensured the Flutesnoot was harsher on her than others in the class, with the questions trickling down the administrative ladder.

                Luckily, their first Transfiguration class of the school year – an hour long – was review and prep for their NEWT year. Homework was to read the introductory chapter in  _the_ _Advanced_   _Guide to Transfiguration_.

                Betty waved goodbye to Veronica, Archie, and Kevin, who now had the two and a half hours before lunch free, and headed to her two-hour Literature class.

                There wasn’t much time for her to travel from the third-floor Transfiguration classroom to the first-floor Literature classroom, but she did so breathlessly, a few minutes before the class would begin.

                Signing up for Literature was a no brainer; she enjoyed reading, and the elective – optioned from the start of third year – provided opportunities for writing refinement, and reading classics and modern fiction.

                The classroom was well lit for the first floor, overlooking the cliffs and towards the lake. It provided a spectacular view from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far left of the room; opposite were several long blackboards. At the front of the room was their teacher’s desk – Professor Adams – and only two rows of four desks, in pairs, each facing it. Closer to the back and the door were two couches that sat face and face with a coffee table between them. Along the wall where the door was situated were floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with copies of the texts Professor Adams had his third through seventh year students reading.

                Five seats were already taken by the time Betty arrived: Ethel and Cricket sat side-by-side with Dilton and Frankie Valdez in the first row; Jughead sat by himself behind Frankie, the last row empty.        

 _Four Ravenclaws, one Slytherin, and one Hufflepuff. No Gryffindors,_ thought Betty. _Typical_.

                She moved further into the room and sidled up to the empty desk next to Jughead’s left; he had the aisle and window seat.

                “Can I sit here?” she asked him, pointing when he finally looked up.

                She felt her lips twitch into a small, warm smile at the sight of her other best friend. Jughead, as usual, eschewed the Hogwarts hat (to be fair, almost all students did, too) and wore instead his signature grey beanie. It covered the majority of his wavy black hair, allowing a few curls to escape over his forehead and at the nape of his neck. While both her male best friends had blue eyes, Jughead’s were a deep, azure blue whereas Archie’s were a lighter shade of sky blue.

                Jughead was pale, and the slight bruising of black under his eyes had Betty’s heart clench. _Was he not sleeping enough?_

                When she took in the rest of his uniform quickly – there was a sloppiness to his Slytherin tie, hanging much lower around his neck than tight, and he had the sleeves of his cardigan pushed just slightly up his forearms so that the unbuttoned white Oxford cuffs underneath were hanging open and wide. It made Betty roll her lower lip into her mouth with worry.

                “Hi, Juggie,” she said once his eyes were on hers.

                “Hey, Betts,” he replied lowly, his eyes half-lidded.

                “Can I sit?” she repeated.

                He looked around the room, nodded, and Betty slid into the wooden seat, putting her backpack on the ground and pulling out her quill and parchment. While they waited for Professor Adams, she turned to Jughead and tentatively approached, “You never replied to my owl about getting together with Archie before school started.”

                “Oh,” replied Jughead, darting his eyes away.

 _Shoot, I shouldn’t have said that,_ she thought, mentally wincing. She knew they weren’t talking anymore.

                “I was... busy,” answered Jughead, eyes still not focused on her face.

                “I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Betty, pushing past her embarrassment. She tried to settle her racing heart with her verbal olive branch. “Maybe we can catch up at the Three Broomsticks – just us? My treat?”

                His eyes moved back to hers, and a small smile quirked at the corner of his lips. “If you insist on paying...”

                Betty felt an answering smile tug on her lips. “Absolutely.”

                Professor Adams brushed into the room then, an armload of texts of varying sizes in his arms, and began: “Alright you six, settle down. It’s just us this year, so we’re going to get up close and comfortable...”

                When the two hour class ended, Betty was hesitant to pack up; she had spoken to Archie the moment she arrived in Hogsmeade, and spent the ride to Hogwarts in the carriages with him, as well as Transfiguration and mealtime, but she did not have the opportunity to do the same with her other friend.

                “Do you have time this weekend to meet up?” asked Betty as Jughead stood to his full height, slightly towering over her.

                “It’s the Back to School semi, Betts,” said Jughead with the usual sardonic lilt to his words. “I’m sure you’re going to that.”

                “Yes, but—”

                “And then the Devil of Hogwarts’ usual after party in the dungeons,” continued Jughead.

                Betty sighed. “That’s Friday night, Jug. I have Saturday and Sunday free, too.”

                “Not what I heard,” he said, turning from the desk and scooping up his shoulder satchel, looping it up and over his head in a smooth movement.

                “What?” Betty stared after him, and then bounded the few feet difference to catch up as he exited the door, heading towards the Great Hall for lunch.

                She grasped his arm when she caught up with him, causing Jughead to pause and turn slightly to look down at her. “What do you mean by that?”

                “You’re a Hogwarts Dragon now, right?” he asked in reply. “If the gossip is to be believed, you have practice Saturday and Sunday evenings.” He dramatically sighed. “No time for your old pal Jughead.”

                “Juggie,” breathed Betty, smiling up at him. She tugged his arm a bit closer, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I will _always_ have time for you. Lunch Saturday then? Three Broomsticks?”

                Jughead exhaled heavily through his nose, and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. They were nearly at the Great Hall. “All right, Betts. Saturday, noon.” His head came down and he smiled. “Don’t be late.”

                “I won’t, promise,” she agreed. “Besides, I’ll see you in Ancient Runes on Friday and you can remind me again then.”

                They were still smiling when they entered the Great Hall together, the loud, raucous laughter of Hogwarts students settling down on the benches, looking for friends and catching up with those they hadn’t seen over the summer. Students were allowed to mingle from different Houses at mealtime when it was not a special Feast day, so Betty was ready to turn towards the Gryffindor table, and Kevin and Archie.

                However, the solid form at her side jerked her step back, and she looked up in confusion. Jughead’s face had gone stony, eyes dark and his form tense underneath her hand. His smile had faded immediately upon entering the Great Hall, settling into a solid dash across his face.

                “Juggie...?” Betty turned to face him directly.

                He glanced down at her, her hand still tucked and wrapped around his upper arm, and his eyes softened a bit. “Sorry, Betts.” He reached out with his free hand and gently disentangled her hand from his arm. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

                “Juggie?” Betty blinked as he gave her a tiny, swift smile that faded again all too quickly, and he turned on his heel to backtrack out of the Great Hall, disappearing off a side hallway which Betty knew led to the Hufflepuff dormitories and the kitchen.

                Feeling slightly disheartened, Betty trudged to the Gryffindor table where Archie, Kevin, and Veronica already sat, putting away textbooks and parchment as they prepared for lunch instead of their spur-of-the-moment study session.

                “ _Who_ was that tall and dark mystery you walked in with?” asked Veronica the second Betty sat down next to Archie. She and Kevin had a perfect view of the entrance, whereas Archie had his back to it.

                “I...” Betty trailed off, a glance at Archie from under her lashes as she spoke. “That was Jughead.”

                He stiffened at the name.

                “Jughead?” Veronica repeated. “What an unfortunate name. _But_ that does not detract from his general Sirius Blackness. Is he a friend?”

                “Betty’s other half,” supplied Kevin absently, stuffing loose parchment into his bag.

                “Your... other half?” repeated Veronica in confusion, eyes darting towards Archie.

                Betty sighed. “Not like that. He’s our best friend,” she finished, moving a hand between her and Archie to indicate their shared possession of their missing friend.

                “Yeah,” a very uncomfortable Archie said slowly, swallowing as a light blush rose up his neck and turned his ears red.

                Veronica and Kevin shared an equally unimpressed glance, and then Kevin launched into a story about Reggie and Moose that morning in the Gryffindor dorms that Archie had not told them about earlier, and the awkwardness was forgotten.

                For now.

*

                “This is creepy as a Dementor,” commented Archie, eyes darting from the large, floating portrait of Jason in his Slytherin Quidditch uniform to another of him posed with Cheryl for some family event. On either side of him, Veronica and Betty made noises of agreement.

                The Great Hall was decorated with streamers in black and grey, mixed in with the green, red, yellow and blue of the Hogwarts Houses, from the middle of the hall ceiling to the interspersed rafters. Peeking through the streamers was a twinkling night sky from the enchanted ceiling. Balloons in white floated here or there, nudging up against the many framed portraits of Jason Blossom. His face took on a sinister quality in the shadows of the many floating candles.

                 “No kidding,” muttered Veronica in agreement from his right. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cacophony of the live band. “I thought he was missing. This is a bit... _much_.”

                Betty twitched her nose. “I guess being missing for a month now means he’s likely dead.”

                “And you people celebrate by dancing and drinking with his creepy Bates grin watching us all?” Veronica was horrified.

                “That’s Cheryl,” replied Archie, but his voice was weak. “Consider it more like a wake.”

                “That’s one word for it,” she muttered, dark eyes lingering on Jason Blossom’s in one of the portraits.

                The live band turned from a rolling mess to silence as Headmistress McGonagall stood on the makeshift stage. She used a _Sonorous_ to catch the students’ attention. “We lost one of our own this summer, and, to honour him, we will have a moment of silence.”

                Students obediently fell silent, some even weeping as they looked up at the image of the popular Quidditch player.

                “Thank you,” continued McGonagall momentarily, “With that said—”

                Cheryl bounded up onto the stage, tapping her own throat with her wand and hijacking McGonagall’s speech. Betty could tell by her pinched mouth she wasn’t pleased.

                “Good evening, friends. Are you all having a good time?” Cheryl gave a shark-toothed grin at the large crowd of fourth years and above, all looking forward to the traditional dance and the promise of an excellent after part. So, they cheered. “As honorary chairperson and _de facto_ queen of tonight’s semiformal, it is my great pleasure to introduce this evening’s main entertainment.” Her eyes lingered on certain groups of people, and she dramatically paused to build tension. “To know them is to be obsessed with them. Though they usually perform their own material, tonight, they’re making an exception and debuting a cover of the song my parents claim they were listening to the night Jason and I were conceived.”

                “Oh, Merlin!” Archie brought a hand to his face and Betty even flushed with embarrassment at Cheryl’s bizarre brand of devotion.

                “This one’s for you, JJ...”

                Josie McCoy from Slytherin, dressed in leopard print and kitty ears, strode out on stage with Valerie Brown of Gryffindor, equally dressed, and Melody Valentine from Ravenclaw. The three girls had a strange friendship that spanned three Houses, tied with a love for music. Originally called the Nifflers when Valerie began looking for band mates, Josie quickly outshone the other girls and reformed them as the Pussycats, to honour Valerie.

                Josie took the center of the stage, and put her hands on her hips, crooning out the familiar opening lines of Celestina Warbeck’s _You Charmed the Heart Right out of Me_ : “Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? It’s left me for a spell / But I don’t mind, ‘cause with you I find / I’m always feeling well...”

                Veronica was giving her sharp hand motions from behind Archie’s back, so Betty took the hint.

                “Do you want to dance, Archie?”

                “Well, I...” he was glancing to the darkened corners of the Hall, as well as the buffet table manned by Professor Grundy. He was looking for escape and Betty felt her heart crack.

                “Of course he will!” chirped Veronica, sensing his hesitance. “It’s the opening dance!”

                “Well, I,” he tried again, clearly caught between one hopeful, and one militant, Hufflepuff. His shoulders slumped. “Sure, Betty.”

                _What a sour victory_ , she thought, but forced a smile on her face as he led her to the middle of the dance floor.

                She placed her arms around his shoulders and let her hands dangle behind his neck. He placed his hands gently at her waist, careful not to touch the side triangular cut outs the soft pink dress boasted.

                They swayed back and forth a bit before Betty commented, “You look really nice in your dress robes.”

                “Oh, what?” he turned his attention to the blonde-haired woman in his arms, having torn them from somewhere over her shoulder. “Uh, thanks.”

                Betty gave a nervous titter. She pursed her lips and glanced at the stone flooring, taking in her matching pink pumps and the shine on Archie’s dress shoes. She steeled her resolve. _If I don’t do this now... I won’t ever. I already know, but at least then, I can say I did it and clear my conscience._

“You know, now that I’m a Hogwarts Dragon, and you’re the captain of the Gryffindor team, I have this fantasy of us as a power couple,” she said slowly, drawing her gaze up from their shoes to Archie’s started blue eyes, “And maybe even just as a couple.”

                “Betty?”

                She gave a tiny shrug and huff of self-depreciating laughter at the flummoxed look on Archie face. They had stopped dancing, stopped their sway. “Is that so impossible to imagine?”

                “I—”

                Her heat broke further into tiny, sharp pieces. She already knew, but hearing it was another matter.

                The crowd around them broke into wild cheers as Josie finished singing, applauding and catcalling, and Josie and her Pussycats immediately delved into the Weird Sisters’ _Do the Hippogriff_ ; the dance floor was immediately swarmed and Archie and Betty were pushed apart. He had still not answered her, and knowing what his likely answer would be, Betty wrapped her arms around herself and, breaking her stare on the redheaded teen, turned and walked off the dance floor.

                Kevin bounced towards her, coming from somewhere to the side, and grabbed her shoulders. His face was animated and bright, and he said, over the loud noise, “Betty, you will not believe who just propositioned me in the bathroom. Give you a hint: his name may be ‘Moose’, but I’d describe a certain appendage of his as Centaur-like.”

                Betty blinked.

                “Uhhh...”

                “Right, I’m off to follow up on this. I’ll see you later at the after party,” he winked. “Or not.”

                “... have fun?” Betty replied, but Kevin was already gone, and Veronica took his place.

                “B, what was that?” she demanded, looking into her friends’ face. She had a grip on a steaming mug of something.

                “What was what?” asked Betty, tiredly.

                Veronica huffed. “You were dancing, you were all close and talking and then...”

                Betty sighed. “Yeah, _and then_.”

                Veronica’s face fell. “Did you tell him? Did you slay your Norwegian Ridgeback?”

                “Yeah, I told him,” replied Betty, eyeing the drink. She motioned towards it. “Do you mind...?”

                “What? Oh, no. Take it, B.”

                Betty took the offered mug and chucked back the contents – warm, spicy. _Mead_ , her mind supplied – and swallowed.

                “Merlin, Betty,” the concern in Veronica’s voice had Betty popping her eyes open. She hadn’t realized she closed them. “What happened?”

                “Nothing,” she answered. “I told him, he didn’t answer, and then the song ended. So, he knows now. It’s up to him what he does.”

                Veronica’s face fell in concern and sympathy for her new friend. Then, a determined glint entered her eyes. “C’mon then. Let’s go dance up a storm on the floor and show that orange bull what he’s missing.”

                Betty gave Veronica a small smile and hunched in on herself. “Oh, no, V, I couldn’t—”

                “Nonsense!” argued Veronica. “You can, and you will. Cut loose and have some fun, B. Do this _for you_.”

                _When was the last time you did something for yourself?_ a tiny voice asked, and Betty felt a small glimmer of gratitude for Veronica Lodge entering her life.

                “Oh, all right,” she agreed, and let Veronica latch onto her arm, nearly pulling it from the socket as she drove back into the roiling crowd, pushing Betty up against Adam Chisholm and Trevor Brown, their fellow Hufflepuffs. The two teens drew the girls into their circle, which widened to include Nancy and Midge, and soon Betty was laughing, watching Adam try to do the house elf.

                She was having so much fun, she failed to realize the chiming of the Hogwarts clock announcing it was ten – and the dance was over. Cheryl’s after party in the dungeons was about to begin.

*

                The dungeons were like they sounded: dark, damp, and overall, uncomfortable. But as reigning Queen of Hogwarts since Victoire Weasley, Cheryl had several years to commandeer a portion of the dungeons and draw on the Room of Forgotten Things for bit pieces. The dungeon she ended up choosing for her parties was a collection of grotto-like holes in the wall and long, low-ceiling dens. All had low lighting from the few-and-far-in between wall scones and torches. It provided an intimate, cozy scene for lovers looking to snog in the grottos, on comfortable loveseats and enlarged throw pillows, but it was sinister for those, like Betty, who did her best to avoid Cheryl’s radar.

                “It’s game time at Chez Blossom, kiddies,” called Cheryl as she strode into the larger of the dungeons, her red hair shining in the low burning candles, the colour of blood. In her hand was an empty bottle of Odgen’s Firewhiskey, a leftover of some party the previous school year. “We’re going old-school tonight: Seven Minutes in Heaven. Who wants to tryst in the Grotto of Love first?”

                She indicated at the small grotto just behind her, deeply recessed and shrouded in darkness. Her eyes swept across the party-goers, all lounging on the long couch someone – likely her brother long ago – had combined with magic, integrating several smaller armchairs and seats. It was a mismatched, patchwork couch, but deceptively comfortable and able to seat many. Betty was tucked between Veronica and Josie, who was next to Melody and Val; Archie sat opposite them on a smaller couch that had the Quidheads: Reggie, Trevor, Jinx Malloy, Frankie, Streaky Shore, Fangs, and Chuck.

                Cheryl’s eyes snagged on someone, and her lips twitched up into a cruel smirk. “My vote is 'A' for Archie. Anyone care to second it?”

                Archie startled, looking from his seat at the edge of the couch to the rowdy teens next to him. “Wait, actually...”

                Reggie whooped. “ _Yes_ , Andrews! Yes.”

                Cheryl looked triumphant, and Betty slouched deeper into the back of the cushions of her seat. Archie hadn’t spoken to her since their dance at the semiformal, and had barely glanced in her direction, much less meet her eyes. Veronica was bristling beside her, her back rammer straight.

                “All right. Gather round, kids. Let’s see who’s riding the ginger stallion tonight!” Cheryl reached out and spun the empty bottle. It swirled, the same way its amber liquid was shot through with red, until...

                Reggie groaned. “Oh, no way! It’s clearly pointing to the new girl.”

                Veronica stilled and Betty could feel shock settle into her bones. _No..._

                Archie looked up from his seat and met Veronica’s gaze across the darkened room, and Betty felt her stomach roll.

                “This should be fun,” purred Cheryl, her eyes going back and forth between the two while the boys next to Archie began punching at his shoulder and getting him to stand.

                Veronica crossed her arms. “Um, I’m not doing this.”

                “That’s up to you,” shrugged Cheryl. “But, if you don’t, House rules decree the hostess gets to take your turn.”

                Veronica glared at Cheryl, was stared unwaveringly back.

                Betty reached forward and poked at Veronica’s arm until the dark-haired girl turned her eyes on her.

 _I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but..._ “It’s okay,” whispered Betty. “Better you than her.”

                “What? No,” argued Veronica. “I know how you feel, and this is just a cheap shot of Cheryl’s to stir the cauldron.”

                Betty swallowed. “Archie may not have said anything, but I’m not dumb. I can see where this is going.”

                “B...” Veronica trailed off, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. When she opened them, her back was less straight and the downward tilt of her lips indicated her displeasure.

                “I’ll be okay. Promise,” said Betty. She nudged her, eyes glancing across the couches to Archie, who was standing awkwardly beside Cheryl. “Go.”

                Veronica got up, with a mutter of “I swear, I know she lost her brother and everything, but Cheryl is Voldemort reincarnated,” and grabbed Archie by the front of his dress robes and yanked him to the dark grotto.

                Cheryl’s lip curled. “Well witches and wizards – seven minutes on the clock! Let’s see what our resident Gryffindor golden boy can get up to in that time.”

                Betty’s stomach was a rolling mess, and it wasn’t until pain spread from her tightly-clenched hands did she realize that she curled her nails into her palm again. The pressure from that had her blinking at her fisted hands in her lap.

                She abruptly stood, muttered, “excuse me,” to the group vaguely, and left the after party, ignoring the hoots and calls for her to come back.

                Upon exiting the part of the dungeon Cheryl had reserved for the party, Betty leaned her flushed forehead against the cool stone. She took deep breaths, trying to regulate her breathing, but all she could hear were her harsh pants.

                She squeeze her eyes shut, blocking the imprinted image of Veronica grabbing Archie and them disappearing into the dark. Had the situation been reversed, had that bottle landed on her, Archie would not have caught her eyes across the couches. He was already embarrassed by her admission of love for him, and the thought of seven minutes in a dark, enclosed space would’ve been too much.

                _I would have been humiliated in front of everyone, instead of just him_ , she thought bitterly. The glowing warmth that came from dancing with Veronica and her fellow ‘Puffs at the dance had all but faded, leaving her shivering.

                _Did he ever think of me that way?_ She wondered, rolling her forehead and body in one movement that had her back against the cool stone instead, feeling it at her lower back where the keyhole was. _Probably not. Maybe that’s why I never told him. I always knew it, deep down. Archie Andrews didn’t like me that way, and never has._

                A sob tore past her before she smothered it, hands flying up to press against her mouth. Tears welled, and then bubbled over as the truth settled over her shoulders like a Lethifold. She stood, shivering, and sucking in her cries for several moments, taking deep breaths where she could to calm herself.

                Finally, once the hallway stopped spinning and the black spots dotting her vision receded, Betty pushed off the wall, now warmed from her body, and began walking towards the entrance hall. Halfway there, she found a broken wall scone. Reaching up, she twisted it and the wall behind slid open to reveal a secret passage.

                _Eventually, they’re going to exit that grotto,_ she thought, a spasm of pain shuddering her body. _And I want to be far away when they come looking for me. I need space. And time to compose myself._

                Archie caught up with her at the base of the main stairs, near the entrance hall though.

                He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him, startling her. He had come from the direction of the dorms and kitchens, having checked for her there first.

                Immediately, Betty cursed the dried tear tracks on her face and the fact that she hadn’t made it to the Hufflepuff dorm quick enough to avoid him and his search – although knowing that Veronica shared the room with her, she hadn’t been all that keen to return and had backtracked from the dungeons through several hidden passages.

                Betty inhaled sharply, and drew upon her inner strength and met Archie’s concerned eyes. “I’m not going to ask what you did with Veronica at Cheryl’s. But I’m asking you now, right now, if you love me, Archie. Or even like me?”

                Archie looked like someone told him to catch the snitch instead of the quaffle. He swallowed. “Of course I love you, Betty. But I can’t give you the answer you want.”

                New tears were welling in Betty’s eyes, but she sniffed and blinked quickly to rid herself of them. “Why?” The word emerged far more plaintive than she wanted.

                Archie looked crushed at seeing her holding back tears, his own eyes going glassy as he stuttered his response. “You are so... perfect. I... I’ve never been good enough for you. I’ll _never_ be good enough for you.”

                Betty’s mouth dropped open at the admission, shaking her head a bit back and forth before taking a few small steps away from her friend. Her heels clicked and echoed on the stone flooring.

                Betty rolled her lip in and felt her hands, tucked tight next to her body, curl into fists. Her nails began to dig into the fleshly palm.

                “Goodnight, Archie,” she finally whispered, and turned, heading down the side hallway to her dorm. Once Archie was out of sight – and better still, not following her – she turned to the large painting of the bowl of fruit and tickled the pear. It giggled, and the frame swung open on well-oiled hinges.

                The kitchens were dark and quiet, a few low-burning candles illuminating the four long tables that mimicked it a floor above in the Great Hall.

                 A single figure sat hunched over parchment, scribbling away with a well-chewed feather tip, and a half-eaten plate of sandwiches at his elbow. The familiar beanie gave the teen’s identity away.

                Betty must have made a noise, because the head popped up, and Jughead’s eyes were wide when he spotted her.

                “Betty...”

                She moved forward and slowly sat a few spaces away from Jughead, needing space. A house elf popped in front of her, and asked, “What would Miss like?”

                “Just a chamomile tea, please,” said Betty quietly, and the elf nodded, popping out. An instant later, a steaming mug appeared on the table in front of Betty’s hand.

                She warmed her hands on the ceramic first, and then brought it up to her lips for a sip. The warm liquid heated her marginally.

                “Betts... did...” Jughead’s tentative voice had her glancing at him. He sat still, frozen, as his eyes moved from the shiny dried tear tracks on her cheeks and rumpled hair – no longer soft and in waves down her back, but rather frizzy – to her arms and what he could see of her legs, no doubt checking for injury.

                Betty offered him a small, wobbly smile. “I’m fine, Juggie.”

                “You’re not,” he argued firmly, but softly. His eyes met hers and then his body slumped forward. They sat in silence before he cleared his throat and asked, “Have you thought about what you want to do for your Ancient Runes capstone project this year?”

                Betty leapt on the topic. “I was thinking of expanding on my project last year, my two-way mirrors.”

                “Your mirrors?” asked Jughead, turning to face her and subtly covering the parchment he was writing on at the same time.

                Betty nodded. “Yes; last year, I made a two-way mirror for Charms, linking them together.” She flushed slightly but slipped a hand down the neckline of her dress (very aware that Jughead flushed bright red and turned his eyes to the far, dark corner of the kitchen as she did so), and pulled a tiny compact from the pocket she had sewn in there, especially for the mirror.

                Jughead’s attention turned to the mirror. “What does it do?”

                “Well,” said Betty, clicking the mirror open. “If I want to talk to Kev, I say his name and he gets an answering vibrate on his end. He can answer it and then we can talk as if we were face-to-face or on a Floo call. If he wants privacy but wants to talk, he just taps it with his wand and says _obscuro_. I’m hoping to use runes to connect more mirrors with unique calling addresses for all my friends as my project.”

                “That’s amazing, Betts,” praised Jughead, looking at the mirror and then her. “That’s a great idea, and I bet a lot of people would love something like that.”

                “It’s a bit too personalized for commercial use,” laughed Betty, feeling a bit better compared to earlier. Jughead always had that ability. “But it’s something I want my friends to have. That way we don’t need owls to communicate.”

                Although no censure was meant, Jughead winced at the comment. “I really am sorry for not owling you back.”

                “Juggie, it’s fine!” she reached out and put a hand – now warm from the mug – over his. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

                Jughead opened his mouth to answer, but the mirror between them vibrated violently, moving across the wooden table. Both stared down at it.

                “What in Merlin’s name...?” Betty brushed her hand across the top of the mirror, stopping it from moving, and picked it up. “Kevin, is everything okay?”

                Kevin’s pale face lit up the tiny round top of the compact. Behind him, pale moonlight filtered through some foliage and tree branched. “Betty?” his tinny voice was shaky. “I need you to go to Professor Vector _right now_. And then the Headmistress. Anyone you can find.”

                “Kev? Are you all right?” Betty’s voice rose in panic. Jughead slid across the bench closer to her, and looked in the mirror she was holding. Kevin’s image shook, like he was moving or couldn’t keep his hand still.

                They heard Moose speak, from a distance, “ _Are they coming? Is someone coming? Oh, God_.”

                “Betty,” Kevin looked directly at her. “Jason’s body just washed up at the edge of the Black Lake. There are marks all over him – and... and...” he swallowed thickly. “Betty, I think he was _tortured._ ”

*

_By morning, everyone would be talking, Owling, and Flooing about it. We’d all be feeling it. That the world around us had changed, maybe forever. That Hogsmeade wasn’t the same town as before. That it was a town of shadows and secrets now._

_On Monday, the autopsy on Jason’s body would take place. And on Thursday, halfway through fifth period, the first arrest would be made_.

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: May 26 for age-related changes for NEWT curriculum. 
> 
> To summarize, the group received enough OWLs to enter the following NEWT-level classes (A, EE, or O depending on the class requirement):
> 
>  **Archie** : Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Divination, Muggle Studies  
>  **Betty** : Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Ancient Runes, Arithmacy // non-NEWT electives: Literature, Languages 2  
>  **Veronica** : Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Divination, Arithmacy // non-NEWT electives: Law & Civics, Languages 1  
>  **Kevin** : Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Divination // non-NEWT electives: Basic Wizardry, Law & Civics  
>  **Jughead** : Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, Ancient Runes // non-NEWT electives: Literature
> 
> NEWT-level classes are still separated by Gryffindor/Hufflepuff & Ravenclaw/Slytherin divide for core courses, but all electives are smaller and therefore share all Houses.


	3. No Longer Cooped Up

*

III: No Longer Cooped Up

*

_What a fool I was, what a dominated fool_

_To think that you were the Earth and sky?_

_What a fool I was, what an addlepated fool_

_What a mutton-headed dolt was I --_

_No, my reverberating friend..._

_You are not the beginning and the end!_

– Eliza Doolittle, _My Fair Lady_ (film), 1964

*

_I think many of us, maybe the entire town, had been hoping against hope that somehow Jason Blossom hadn’t drowned on July 4th. That we’d come to school Monday morning, and there Jason would be. Or that we’d see him and Cheryl in a booth at Madam Rosmerta’s in the Three Broomsticks, or at the Slytherin table._

_But that was before the undeniable, irrevocable fact of his bloated, water-logged body, a corpse undeniably a victim of the Killing Curse, and the terrible secrets that could only be revealed by the cold, steel blade of a coroner’s autopsy scalpel, or the telltale beating of a guilty heart._

*

                Betty and Jughead found Professor Vector first, in her office that doubled as her Head of Hufflepuff meeting room. They stumbled through a stilted, breathless explanation for waking her up at twelve-thirty in the morning, but upon understanding “Jason – body – Black Lake,” she had sent out Patronuses to McGonagall, the other Heads of Houses, and had her head stuck in her fireplace, on the Floo to Head Auror Keller.

                Since the semiformal had only been open to students fifth years and above, a good portion of the school was asleep when Aurors began showing up. Instead, the majority of those who braved the chilly September night were year mates of Jason’s, or people who had a connection to him.

                Betty stood, arms wrapped around herself, slightly away from the water’s edge of the inky Black Lake. Students who lived in Hogsmeade – which was a fair number of the halfbloods who attended Hogwarts – were milling around with their parents; her own parents stood nearby, both watching as a coroner from St. Mungo’s and on retainer for the Department of Law Enforcement swept the shoreline and prepared Jason’s body. Nearer to the shore, Cheryl stood stoically between her parents, their faces blank and white.

                Betty trailed her eyes from the yellow zip-bag that housed Jason’s bloated body to Kevin, who sat on the dewy ground with a conjured, bright orange blanket around him. Moose was at his side, and both were looking – staring, rather – at the spot where they discovered Jason’s body. Both had vacant looks on their faces, and Betty could see Kevin shiver uncontrollably every so often.

                Archie’s father stood at his side, a solid grip on the redhead’s shoulder, his mouth stretched in a grim line across his face. It only accentuated the laugh lines and wrinkles that deepened in worry.

                The rest of the students without family from Hogsmeade stood in a strange semi-circle around the cordoned area, either by themselves or in clumps of friends. Reggie had his hands stuffed deep in his blazer pockets, with Chuck and Kyle Shore; Ginger, Tina, and Bunny were huddled in a small, teary group, eyes constantly darting back towards Cheryl.

                Her eyes continued to roam, picking out other students she knew or who had known Jason. A lone figure stood further back than most, watching quietly with dark eyes. Jughead hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his denim fleece jacket, buffering against the pre-dawn chill. He then turned and walked away the crowd, without acknowledgment toward anyone – or anyone acknowledging him.

                Betty went to take a step forward, but her mother reached out and wrapped a red-nail tipped hand around her arm.

                “Elizabeth,” she said lowly. “Auror Keller mentioned you were the one who brought Jason’s body to Professor Vector’s attention. They’ll want to take a statement later – you’d best come home with us and wait for him at the house. You can return to Hogwarts on Monday morning.”

                “Mom,” argued Betty quiet, unwillingly to raise her voice in the eerie, still quiet of the night. “I wasn’t alone. I was with Jughead. And Kevin contacted me with his mirror.”

                Alice Cooper, hair perfectly done up despite it being three in the morning and the fact that she had a long woollen pea coat over pink pajamas, pinched her mouth in displeasure. Betty couldn’t tell if it was because she and Kevin had a way to communicate without her mother previously knowing, or because she was with Jughead at the time.

                “Regardless,” she said, her voice tight, “I’d feel better if you were at home this weekend.”

                Betty’s eyes darted to her father standing behind, and saw the deep frown he wore. To be honest, she hadn’t wanted to go back to the dorm room she shared with Veronica currently, and licking her wounds in private, in her childhood bedroom, was a welcomed relief.

                “Okay,” she murmured in response, turning and allowing her father to wrap an arm across her shoulders and lead her towards the school gates.

                _There’s no Dragon practice until Monday morning, so as long as I leave the house on time, I can still make it_ , she thought, planning her mental weekly schedule. She had until Tuesday to complete her brief Care of Magical Creatures homework (so Monday night it was), and other than her plan to see Jughead for lunch, Betty had a light back-to-school load.

                _Of course_ , a nasty voice piped up, _that’s_ if _you’re still seeing Jughead later._

                She grimaced and then ducked her chin so her parents wouldn’t see – but both were looking straight ahead, and once they cleared the imposing wrought-iron gates, her father grasped her shoulder tightly and spun on his heel, Disapparating with a sharp _pop_!

                Alice met with them in the foyer of their two-story Craftsman-styled house, already shrugging off her coat.

                “Now, you won’t get much sleep, Elizabeth,” she began sharply, eyeing her daughter. “Auror Keller will be here by ten to take your statement. I suggest you go straight to your room and get some rest. We don’t want you to be looking anything less than fresh when he comes by in the morning – we don’t want any unfavourable comparisons to Polly, dear.”

                Betty’s brow wrinkled. “Unfavourable comparisons?”

                Alice Cooper smoothed a hand down her platinum locks in a nervous gesture, while Hal shuffled nervously behind her. “The events of the end of the school year... got to her. She’s recovering from what that Blossom boy did to her.”

                Betty firmly clenched her jaw shut. “I have plans for lunch. Will we be done by then?”

                “Plans?” inquired her mother, as they started up the stairs: she was leading, Betty followed, and Hal ended the procession.

                “I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” offered Betty without elaboration. Alice did not approve of most of her friendship – except Kevin for obvious reasons – and she didn’t want to push her luck by mentioning Jughead again.

                At the top, Alice turned and looked down at her daughter, coolly assessing her. Hal slinked by, unwilling to intervene between his wife and daughter.

                Betty’s mother’s green eyes – the eyes she inherited – travelled from the top of her mussed hair, to the dried tear tracks on her face ( _please let her think they’re from finding Jason’s body!_ ), down her conservative but teasing pink dress, and the scuffed pink pumps, no longer pristine due to her earlier run around of the castle and grass.

                Betty widened her eyes, hoping her doe-like appearance would soften her mother and she would allow her the chance to see Jughead.

                Alice rolled her eyes in response. “Elizabeth, I was a Selwyn, I can spot manipulation a Quidditch pitch away. Where are you supposed to meet this... _friend_?”

                The disdain in her voice offered a glimpse to Betty that her mother wasn’t fooled by who she might be seeing, although Betty was fairly sure her mother thought she was meeting Archie, whom she _greatly_ disliked.

                “The Three Broomsticks,” said an earnest Betty, blinking and keeping her eyes as open as possible to convey innocence. “It’s all very public, mom.”

                Alice made a noise, narrowing her eyes. “One hour. And then you’re back here.”

                Betty grinned brightly and nodded.

                “Goodnight, Elizabeth.” Her mother’s eyes remained narrowed and focused on her even as Betty turned and entered her bedroom, softly shutting the door behind her.

                In the silence and darkness of her room, the tension she unknowingly carried on her shoulders loosened and she leaned against the solid door, catching her breath. She began to sag, and tiredly she kicked off her pumps, uncaring of where they landed, and trudged to her bed. She fell face-first on the rosy duvet, arms and legs akimbo.

                The evening was catching up to her, and weariness covered her like a heavy winter blanket. Archie’s unspoken rejection, Veronica’s seven minutes in Heaven with him, and even Cheryl’s taunts and cruel glances compounded into a heavy weight that made it hard for her to breathe.

                “I am stronger than this,” she murmured into her pillow, eyes tightly closed. “I can overcome this. I am Betty Cooper, and I am strong.”

                _But maybe not perfect,_ a voice piped up.

                _Maybe,_ thought Betty tiredly, thinking of Archie’s confession, how Kevin introduced her to Veronica on the train. _I don’t want to be perfect._

*

                Alice Cooper woke Betty up promptly at eight am, and then spent exactly one hour and twenty-five minutes ensuring Betty looked perky and pristine for Auror Keller’s arrival at ten, with a five-minute grace period. Dressed in a modest, pleated, white calf-length skirt and light yellow sweater over a button-up, Betty looked like something out of a 1950s American television show. Her hair was up in a ponytail with a light curl at the end, and her makeup was subtle.

                “We’re showing Auror Keller that we’ve got nothing to hide,” informed Alice as she dug through Betty’s jewellery box, finally fishing out a silver necklace. She eyed it critically and then nodded, motioning for Betty to turn around so she could fasten it at the nape of her neck.

                “Do we have something to hide?” Betty asked, eyes firmly fixed on her bedroom wall.

                “No,” answered Alice. “Of course not. But with Polly’s... stressful break down at the beginning of summer, and recuperating elsewhere, we don’t want to add anything to the Fiendfyre, do we?”

                “Speaking of Polly—”

                “It’s nearly ten, Elizabeth. Look sharp, and let’s go; you can sit on the couch and wait for Auror Keller there.”

                Betty smoothed her hands down her skirt and slipped into a pair of low-slung heels and followed her mother to the living room, sitting on the edge of their couch with her back straight and hands folded in her lap. She swallowed and inhaled sharply; there were butterflies in her stomach.

                Auror Keller was late, and that didn’t help her nerves, which shot through the roof the moment she heard the sharp _crack!_ of Apparition outside their house. A few terse seconds later, there was a knock on their door, and Hal opened it.

                Pleasantries were said, and the next thing Betty knew, Auror Keller was sitting across from her in an armchair.

                When she first met him, seven years ago, the tall man in his blood-red Auror robes intimidated Betty. However, that was due to her age and the height difference, as well as her natural fear of Aurors. Now – the man’s hair had thinned and greyed, and his face was slightly craggy and lined from stress and fatigue. Jason’s body appearing must have caused no short manner of problems at the Ministry.

                Hal stood behind Auror Keller and to the side, arms folded while Alice hovered between Betty on the couch and the entrance to the hall, able to keep her keen eyes on both her child and the Auror.

                “Ms. Cooper,” he began, a slight accent lilting in his voice. He pulled out a parchment and self-writing quill, placing them both on the coffee table between them. With a tap of his wand on the quill, it shot up straight, quivering above the parchment, ready to write what was said between them. “Can you please walk me through the events of last night?”

                “Surely not starting with the dance?” asked Betty carefully. She didn’t want to revisit her humiliation.

                Auror Keller quirked his mouth slightly. “No, from just before you spoke with Kevin.”

                Betty nodded. “I was in the kitchens for a late-night tea, after leaving the after party.” There was no need to explain that further; her parents and Auror Keller had been Hogwarts students too, once. “Jughead was there—”

                Keller looked up from the parchment. “Jughead? You’re referring to Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, correct?”

                Betty winced at hearing Jughead’s full name – a name he absolutely detested. “Yes.”

                “Carry on.”

                “Jughead was already in the kitchen, for a midnight snack. He had sandwiches out. When I came in, I sat next to him and we spoke a bit,” Betty saw her parents exchange looks from behind Auror Keller. “I hadn’t seen him since I came back for my internship, so it was a bit of a catch-up.”

                “Fair enough,” replied Keller, nodding at her to continue.

                “We spoke about Ancient Runes, and our capstone project. I was telling him about a plan to continue working on a project I started for my OWL last year – the mirror Kevin and I use,” Betty elaborated when she saw Keller open his mouth to ask. He snapped it shut, and nodded; he had seen the enchanted mirror Kevin used often enough to know what she meant. “I brought out my mirror and was explaining it to him when Kevin called on it.”

                “How does that work?” Keller asked. At her confused look, he said, “It’s for documentation’s sake. You don’t need to go into detail, just a general gist.”

                “Oh. Well, it’s charmed with _audire_ and _dicere_ , and linked with a variant of the Protean charm,” said Betty. “Instant communication between two people who share linked mirrors.”

                “And Kevin called you on your mirror?” asked Auror Keller.

                “Yes,” nodded Betty. “He was very shaken when we spoke – he asked me to find my Head of House, Professor Vector, or go straight to Headmistress McGonagall. I could hear Moose—” at Keller’s look, she corrected herself. “—Marmaduke Mason, a Gryffindor and roommate of Kevin’s in the background asking if someone was coming. And then Kevin told me they found Jason’s body by the Black Lake.”

                She wouldn’t add that Kevin said he thought Jason was tortured. That was too much information and conjecture at best.

                “Jughead and I left the kitchens immediately and went to Professor Vector’s rooms. She wasn’t happy to see us, but when I explained what Kevin said, she understood,” Betty finished. “From there, she sent out a Patronus to the Headmistress, and was on the Floo to the Aurors when she sent us both to bed.”

                “Which you didn’t do,” noted Auror Keller.

                Betty felt herself blush at the censure, and her mother scowled. “I don’t think any of us who knew Jason or the upper years went to bed that night. The Hogwarts gossip mill is practically a work of art, and although we didn’t tell anyone, any of the portraits in the hallways could have overheard and spread the news. It wouldn’t have been hard to get back to those still at the after party and Cheryl.”

                Keller sighed. “Which is what happened.” He eyed her. “And then you were on the grounds?”

                “Watching what was happening. My parents arrived, and we watched until the coroner from St. Mungo’s left, and we went home,” agreed Betty. “That’s it.”

                Keller nodded, reading over Betty’s statement. He then looked back at her and said, “You knew Jason, didn’t you?”

                Betty frowned. “Yes, of course. All students knew him.”

                “But you knew him better,” accused Keller.

                Alice was standing straight now, eyes on the Head Auror.

                “I’m sorry?” Betty asked. Her hands, which had been folded in her lap, began to curl shut.

                Auror Keller elaborated. “Your elder sister, Polly, dated him? So you must have hung out together.”

                “Not... really?” Betty paused. Her fingernails dug into her palms. “Polly’s a Ravenclaw and a year above me. She was doing NEWT preparation last year, was a Hogwarts Dragon, and Jason was a Slytherin and Quidditch captain. I didn’t have anything to do with the Dragons or Quidditch. I knew him only through Polly.”

                 “You’re a Dragon now,” noted Keller, glancing at his parchment again. “Which is led by Cheryl Blossom, Jason's twin sister.”

                “Yes...?”

                “One might suggest you’re looking to take your sister’s spot.” Keller clasped his hands in front of him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Looking to get close to Cheryl Blossom, to learn about her brother. After all, I just see you here. Where’s Polly...?”

                “And that’s enough,” Alice sharply called from her spot, a tight frown on her face. “Betty is not a suspect and shouldn’t be treated as such. You came here for her statement – nothing else.”

                “Just thought I’d delve a bit deeper with the opportunity, Alice,” Keller smoothly commented, tapping his wand on the quill. It fell over on the parchment, which then rolled up into a scroll.

                “Take the opportunity elsewhere, Llewellyn,” snarled Alice, using his first name the same way he used hers. “And the next time you want to talk to my daughter like that, make sure you have a warrant.”

                A slightly abashed look crossed the Head Auror’s face. He stood and pocketed the quill and scroll, nodded at Alice and Hal, who had a very deep scowl on his face, and saw himself out.

                Betty heavily exhaled. She unclenched her fists and deliberately did not look down at the deep, red, crescent marks she left behind.

                “You don’t talk to him alone,” commanded Alice as soon as the door shut, whirling around to face Betty. She blankly nodded. “And if he tries anything, you say you need us there, and you won’t say anything else without a lawyer.”

                “A lawyer? Mom, would it really come to it?” asked Betty, startled.

                Hal sighed. “Betty, your sister dated Jason and could have information about his death; they can’t access her right now, so they’ll go after you instead. The Coopers are very closely tied to the Blossoms. We don’t want the gaze of the Aurors on us. Do you understand?”

                “I... I guess?”

                “That’s good enough,” said her father, rubbing his forehead with a closed hand. “It’s nearly twelve; don’t you have somewhere to be?”

                Betty jumped up, moving her hands to the side of her skirt. “Yes! I just need to get my purse.”

                “One. Hour,” reminded her mother sharply, and Betty nodded, not wishing to jeopardize that further. She flew up the stairs to her room, grabbed a purse she had prepared before Auror Keller’s visit, and then flew back down and straight out the door with a quick “goodbye! Love you!” to her parents.

                Betty arrived at the Three Broomsticks at exactly 12:00pm, as promised. The interior of the comfortable, low-ceiling pub was half-full with the regular lunch crowd, and one or two senior Hogwarts students.

                Jughead was already seated at a booth, tucked kitty-corner near the back and as far away from everyone as he could. His head was tucked down, and a burger and fries, as well as a Butterbeer, were already in front of him.

                _He looks a bit better,_ noticed Betty, running her eyes across his face. The bags under his eyes had disappeared somewhat, and his weekend street clothes (zip-up hoodie, plaid flannel and jeans along with his ever-present denim fleece jacket) weren’t rumpled or wrinkled in any way.

                Betty strode forward and upon reaching the table, teased, “Started without me, Juggie?”

                Jughead glanced up, surprise on his face. “Betts. I didn’t see you come in.”

                “You were a bit too engrossed in your meal,” she continued, eyes crinkled up at the corners. “I should have expected that.”

                 “Ha, ha,” he deadpanned, and she slid into the seat across from him. He then eyed her, taking in her outfit. “Going somewhere fancy later?”

                “No,” sighed Betty. “Auror Keller came by earlier this morning to question me about last night.”

                Jughead’s eyes narrowed. “Should I expect to be next on his list?”

                “Probably,” she said morosely, flagging Rosmerta down to order lunch.

                “What happened?”

                Rosmerta dropped a Butterbeer in front of Betty, who reached for it and began nervously playing with the straw. “Oh, you know, the usual: tell us what happened, who were you with, how well did you know Jason – and do you have a reason to get close to Cheryl? How’s Polly? Where is she? What does she know?”

                “Deep questions from a shallow individual,” rejoined Jughead after a pause.

                “I’m pretty sure he considers me a suspect,” murmured Betty, eyes downcast.

                “You?” Jughead gave a snort of laughter.

                “What?” asked Betty, glancing up to look at her friend.

                His azure eyes were sparkling, his lips stretched into that sarcastic half-smirk he always wore. A slightly flush to his cheeks indicated his dark amusement with the idea of her being capable of murder. Betty was transfixed, and her heart stuttered.

                “Betts, you cried for a solid week when Archie’s Pygmy Puff died. Do you remember? We were seven and Reggie thought it would make an excellent quaffle,” explained Jughead, his voice tinged with humour. “You called Reggie a nasty, cruel toerag, which resulted in him spending the rest of the week trying to make it up to you. I still smile thinking about him dropping everything the second you burst into tears to do your bidding. We were making a game of it by the end... but you – a killer? You could barely stand to de-gnome Mrs. Weasley’s garden at nursery.”

                “You were the best at swinging them out of the garden,” she reminisced fondly.

                “Exactly,” he said, picking up a fry and pointing it at her. The end, heavy with ketchup, drooped slightly. “I don’t think you’re the type to torture and _Avada_ someone in cold blood. The Killing Curse requires _intent_.”

                “Well, someone sure intended to kill him,” sighed Betty. “And it wasn’t quick, either. Not until the end.”

                “This place... it’s wonderful and magical,” agreed Jughead quietly. “But magic is also dangerous. You’d think we’d have learned that after the Second Blood War, but...”

                The two fell into silence, and Rosmerta dropped Betty’s burger off in that time. Betty picked it up and began eating it, enjoying spending time with her friend.

                “Well – mom only gave me an hour of freedom today, so we’d best make the most of it. What did you get up to all summer, then?” she asked, finally putting her burger down and looking towards her fries.

                She glanced up at him from under her lashed when he didn’t respond right away, and nearly missed the shuttered, pained look from his face before he wiped it away and replaced it with a smile.

                “Oh, the same ol’,” he answered airily. “I got a part time job at the Twilight. I spent most of my time there, watching the classics.”

                “How was it?” asked Betty, carefully watching her friend. _Did I imagine that?_ “I’m always surprised by the inclusion of something muggle in Hogsmeade, and a theatre is one of those. I adore it, but I’ve also heard older generations complaining that it’s too muggle for them and it takes away from wizarding theatre.”

                “Well, I don’t see too many people making their way to Diagon Alley for yet another retelling of a story from _Tales of Bard the Beetle_ ,” quipped Jughead, “So they can stuff it. The Twilight has regulars.”

                “Did you get to choose the films?”

                “Not all the time, but enough,” grinned Jughead. His elbows were on the edge of the table, and he leaned forward and over his plate. His hands, with nothing to grab due to his empty plate, rested lightly on the tabletop.

                Betty leaned back in her seat. “So... _Rebel Without a Cause_ every other weekend?”

                “Every third,” replied Jughead.

                They laughed.

                Betty leaned forward again and slid her hand across the table to lightly rest over Jughead’s. “I really did miss you this summer.”

                He looked down at her hand, then back at her quickly, and then back to their hands. His hand twitched under hers, and for one split second – which she would later tell herself she imagined the whole thing – he looked like he was going to turn his hand over and lace his fingers with hers.

                “I missed you too, Betts,” he said quietly, his voice low and gravelly. He cleared his throat and moved his hands from the table, the one she was touching sliding out from under hers, and put them on his lap, hidden from her view. “It’s nearly been an hour since you walked in. We don’t want Mrs. C to come storming in here, wand blazing.”

                “Oh,” anxiety tinged her voice and she felt the tightening of the skin at her temples as she strained not to frown or furrow her brows. “That’s fine! I promised you the meal, didn’t I? I’ll go pay Madam Rosmerta.”

                “Betts, I—”

                Betty stood, and smiled. “It’s okay, Juggie. You’re right; we don’t want my mom to drag me out of here. We don’t want another hit to the Cooper reputation or wag more tongues in Hogsmeade!”

                Her laugh was brittle.

                Jughead stood too, and awkwardly shuffled back and forth with his hands shoved in the pockets of his denim jacket.

                “I didn’t mean it like that, Betts,” he said quietly.

                “I know,” said Betty, reaching up and tugging the brim of his beanie down a bit over his forehead with a grin. It had pulled back during their lunch, and more of his forehead was showing, as were several unruly locks of hair.

                He scowled, without heat, and reached up and fixed his beanie. “ _Betty,_ ” he whined.

                “I’ll see you in Literature on Monday, Juggie.” She ignored his pout. She fished out a galleon and a few sickles to cover both their meals, and left them on the table.

                Eyeing him uncertainly, she then stepped forward, went up on her toes, and grabbed him in a tight hug. She felt him stiffen, and then very slowly, felt a tentative arm wrapped across her shoulders. The other remained by his side.

                “Take care, Juggie,” she whispered to the crook of his neck, enjoying the feel of his solid form crushed to hers. His arm was heavy and warm, and the gentle squeeze his hand gave her shoulder made her flush. With flaming cheeks, stepped back and was out the door to the Three Broomsticks so fast she thought she had preformed accidental magic and Apparated herself.

                _Betty Cooper,_ she scolded herself. _What was that?_

The most obvious wasn’t something she wanted to think about; after all, hadn’t she just proclaimed she loved Archie Andrews her entire life? _No_ – she shook her head, trying to calm her racing heart. _I was happy to see my friend – someone I hadn’t seen all summer. That’s all._

She resolutely ignored the fact that her thought felt like a lie.

*

                Archie sent her a letter, delivered by owl mid-Sunday. It mocked Betty from its place on her vanity. His messy scrawl only had one sentence: _can we talk?_

                She wrinkled her nose at it and determinedly turned her back; if she couldn’t see it, she couldn’t respond. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the entire situation on Friday night, especially after her lunch with Jughead the previous day. Her heart was slowly being put back together, and complications would just make things difficult.

                She would need to see him Monday – they had Transfiguration first thing in the morning and then Defense and Charms – so avoidance wasn’t possible once she returned to Hogwarts.

                Betty took a deep breath, and snuggled herself under her bedcovers. _I’ll just have to learn to steel my heart, then_. She turned onto her side, and with a solid breath, blew out the candle, plunging her room into darkness.

                Her parents did not expect her up at five the next morning, and did she not want to explain why she needed to be at Hogwarts for a 6am practice, but she was already wearing her grey and black uniform, and it was a dead giveaway.

                Instead, she lingered on the upstairs landing, listening to her parents as they preformed their morning routine in the kitchen, letting their voices drift up to her.

                “Hey, honey?” her father called up. “We just wanted you to know, it’s gonna be a bit of a late night for us.”

                “Okay!” she called back.

                She could hear her mother muttering something as she moved from the kitchen at the rear of the house forward towards the foyer. “—late nights for us. I mean, an accidental drowning, who cares? But the sociopathic son of the wealthiest family in town, murdered? That’s a national obsession waiting to happen.”

                “Merlin, he’s barely in his grave, Alice.”

                “Get the Floo powder, Hal. I’ll be right there.” Then her mother was at the foot of the stairs, and Betty was caught in her gaze, lingering half in the hall and half in her room. Her mother’s eyes zeroed in on her not-Hogwarts uniform. “What is that?”

                Betty cleared her throat. “I made the cheerleading squad.”

                Alice’s lips pinched. “Cheryl Blossom’s cheerleading squad? After what Jason did to Polly?” she pointed a finger at her daughter. “No, I’m sorry. I won’t allow it. Take that off right now.”

                “No.”

                The word escaped her before she even thought it. It was instinctual, almost primitive. It was strange.

                Alice thought so, too. “What did you say to me?”

                Betty took a deep breath, and stepped fully into the hallway. Her hands were clenched at her sides. “I do everything for everyone. Everything to be perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect student! Can’t I do this one thing just for me?”

                Alice blinked, looking at her daughter – almost like seeing her for the first time – and then a shuttered look fell over her face. She rested a hand on the banister, while the other smoothed her work robes.

                “Betty, you know what I love most about you? It’s that you always want to see the good in people,” she said, and in a way, Betty took it as a compliment. Alice sighed. “Even people like Cheryl Blossom.”

                Betty moved hesitantly to the top of the stairs and began to descend slowly. Her mother remained where she was.

                “Please get out of my way. I’m going to be late.”

                Alice didn’t move. Instead, sensing a losing argument, she changed direction.

                “Friday night – the semiformal. It looked like you had cried, which is never a pretty sight on you, Elizabeth.” All good feeling towards her mother’s previous comment dissipated. “What happened?”

                “I went to the dance with Archie,” said Betty, and then she darted her eyes to the side. “And Veronica.”

                Alice visibly startled. “Wait. Hermione _Lodge’s_ daughter?”

                Betty hopped down a few steps and said, earnestly, “She’s actually really nice. And trying to be a good person, despite what happened between me and –”

                “You think so?” Alice gave a bitter laugh, interrupting her daughter. A cruel glint entered her eyes, and Betty was reminded that her mother’s family had, once upon a time, been known to be Voldemort sympathizers. “You think she’s going to be your friend? Let me tell you something. Girls like Cheryl and Veronica Lodge, they don’t like girls like _us_.”

                Betty frowned. “I don’t want to hear it, Mom.”

                “Alice! Are you coming?” Hal’s voice carried from the living room, near the stairs. A flicker of green light indicated he had already activated the Floo.

                Alice gave no indication she heard. She spoke lowly to Betty, leaning forward as if trying to convince her of something vitally important. “People like Archie Andrews don’t give us the time of day. When they hurt you this weekend, you saw their true colors, didn’t you?”

                “I did. I definitely did,” said Betty quietly, a flicker of hurt creeping into her tone.

                Alice leaned back, satisfied. She turned from the base of the stairs, ready to enter the living room and go to work. “So no backsliding. No Cheryl. No Veronica and _no_ Archie.”

                Betty cast a glance at her mother. “But my other friends are fine?”

                Alice paused. She then spoke over her shoulder in an even tone. “No one is good enough for you, Elizabeth. But there are some that are better than them. Just focus on school, on your extra-curriculars, and get through this year. It’ll be difficult enough.”

                She began walking away, but through over her shoulder: “Oh, and Betty? Keep your ears open and owl me if you hear anything.”

                “Hear anything?” Betty asked after her.

                Alice gave a wicked little smile as she entered the living room. “You’ll know.”

                And then she was gone.

                Betty stopped at the foot of the stairs, confused. Wasn’t it enough that Jason Blossom was dead? Now her mother wanted her to _spy_ on people, too?

                Opening her front door, Betty was surprised to see Kevin waiting for her on the stoop of the porch, leaning against one of the decorative pillars.

                “ _Kev_?” she asked, incredulous. “What are you doing here?” she glanced around at the predawn. “And this early?"

                Kevin stood from his slouched position, hands deep in his Gryffindor robes, already dressed for the day. He held out a travel flask, which Betty gratefully took.

                “Dad kept me back after Friday night,” explained Kevin. “And I knew that your parents would keep you at home for most of it when dad mentioned taking your statement. So I thought I’d walk back with you to Hogwarts this morning.”

                Betty smiled, and hugged her friend tightly. “I’m so glad to see you!”

                They began walking to Hogwarts.

                “What happened on Friday night?”

                “How did it go with Archie?”

                They two laughed as the spoke over one another.

                Betty clasped her hands in front of her, gestured at Kevin, and wriggled a bit on her toes. Goosebumps rose over her leg and she shivered. _The problems of wearing a skirt in autumn_ , she thought.

                “Not much,” he sighed. The picturesque town of Hogsmeade, quiet in the early hours of Monday morning, was that of a sleepy town, cookie-cutter cottages, and cobblestone streets along a main street and main square, surrounded by boutique shops and gave off an air of ‘quaint.’

                With the discovery of Jason’s body Friday, it was anything but.

                “No?” They were at the Hogwarts gates.

                From the distance, they could see a Quidditch team doing an early morning practice, and as they got closer, both realized it was the Gryffindor team. Reggie was tall and solid in his position as Keeper, and Moose seemed to have recovered from his trauma by viciously swinging his Beater’s bat at a Bludger that his fellow Gryffindor Beater – Kyle “Streaky” Shore – sent toward him. Archie was streaking back and forth, shouting orders, and watching the byplay between his two other Chasers (Nancy Woods and Tomoko Yoshida), while the Gryffindor Seeker, a small third year Betty didn’t know, hovered high above them.

                Kevin shook his head. “Now that romance is off the table, I’ll just say it: are we 100% sure that Archie’s straight? Because no straight man has that body.”

                Both were eyeing the way his Quidditch uniform – tight white breeches tucked into brown leather boots and knee and shin pads, and his red-and-gold rugby-styled jersey – clung to his body. Betty admired the pulled lines on the jersey around Archie’s biceps. _Did he have a growth spurt this summer or take a growth potion?_

“Speaking of bodies – have you recovered from finding Jason’s?” Betty turned to her friend and placed a concerned hand on Kevin’s shoulder. He glanced at her, but then quickly looked back to Archie – or Moose – in the sky.

                They rounded the corner of the pitch, having had to walk around the large, raised spectator stands. A few Hogwarts Dragons had already arrived for practice, but Cheryl, Ginger, and Tina were noticeably absent. Betty breathed a sigh of relief.

                Kevin snorted. “It was more traumatizing having to explain to my dad what I was doing with Moose at the river.”

                “Yikes,” replied Betty. She then motioned towards the small clump of cheerleaders. “Listen – I need to go – we’ll catch up later?”

                “Absolutely,” agreed Kevin, shooting her a tiny grin. “I need to hear about what happened to you, too. Conversations over mirrors can only go so far before I get distracted by all the shiny.”

                “You’re such a Niffler,” laughed Betty, and then turned on her heel.

                Veronica was sitting on the ground, stretching her legs in a split. She looked at Betty when she noticed her, her brown eyes large, wide, and imploring. The blonde sighed, but dropped her gym bag next to Veronica and sat on the ground, stretching her legs out and beginning to reach and touch her toes.

                “I’m really sorry, Betty,” said Veronica quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the other girls. “Are you okay?”

                Betty gave her a shaky smile. “I told you to do it, didn’t I?”

                “Yes, but—”

                “Veronica,” sighed Betty, “I told Archie this and I’ll say the same to you: I won’t ask what happened. I think I have a good idea. Archie made his feelings _very_ clear earlier. What happened after, sealed the deal. Am I hurt? Absolutely. Am I upset at you? A little bit. Am I upset with Archie? Yeah.”

                Veronica’s face dropped and she seemed to pull in on herself.

                Betty reached out and poked her friend’s shoulder. “Am I going to stop being your friend? No.”

                Veronica’s head popped up at the admission, and a wide grin split her face. “Really? Oh, that’s fantastic!” She then blushed. “I... I wasn’t sure, so... um... I might have ordered you forgiveness flowers and left them on your bedside table. And I ordered in cupcakes _especially_ from Paris that I swear are the most delicious, fluffy clouds of sugary goodness you’ve ever had. And I set up an open appointment for two at a spa in Diagon Alley...”

                “Merlin, when you apologise, you really go all out, don’t you?” Betty stared.

                Veronica bashfully pushed a raven lock behind her ear. “I don’t have many good friends, and like I told you, I came here to start fresh. I mucked it up in my first week. I will never, ever do anything like that to you again! I swear on my mother's pearls.”

                “I think your mother’s pearls are safe,” replied Betty, and then the two shared a smile, continuing to stretch until Cheryl arrived and put them through a gruelling first practice – much of her barbed insults heading Betty’s way.

                Veronica kept sending concerned looks Betty’s way, especially when she noticed the tight grip she had on her gym bag strap as they left to shower in their dorm.

                Betty stopped abruptly upon entering their room. “Merlin, V!”

                Veronica laughed nervously, entering through the round hole behind her.

                The bouquet was large, the vase overflowing with beautiful yellow flowers in an elaborate design.

                “So, yellow is the colour of forgiveness,” said Veronica. “And Hufflepuff. I thought it worked well.”

                “Yeah,” Betty eyed the white cardboard box on her bed, a fancy cursive logo on the top, and a golden ribbon wrapped around it.

                “Those are the cupcakes,” said Veronica, attempting a breezy voice. “As my mom likes to say, ‘there’s no wrong the right cupcake can’t fix’!”

                Betty dropped her bag at the foot of her bed, and gently ran a finger down a petal. “Veronica, really. Next time we fight? Just say you’re sorry. Although you don’t really have anything to apologise for.”

                “I am, Betty,” replied an earnest Veronica, moving forward. “I am _so_ sorry. I do though – I kissed Archie in the grotto even though I knew you fancied him.”

                Betty’s heart squeezed. She kept her eyes on the flowers, and heard Veronica move closer.

                “And it was such a classic bitch move,” continued Veronica. “It was like I was possessed by Bellatrix LeStrange? The old Veronica. It won’t happen ever again.”

                Betty turned to face her friend. “You know, my mom’s a Sewlyn. I’m pretty sure my grandfather supported Voldemort, and I have a great-uncle who was sentenced to the Az for his part in the Wars. Comparing what you did and yourself to Bellatrix LeStrange is a bit of a stretch.”

                “It doesn’t feel like it,” muttered Veronica.

                “V, stop beating yourself up over it,” said Betty, coming to face her friend. “You messed up. I set myself up for heartbreak. We will both learn from it.” She glanced at her wind-up clock on her bedside table and teased, “And we’re both going to be late for Professor Flutesnoot and Transfiguration if we don’t take a shower and hurry up.”

                Veronica laughed, and squared her shoulders. “Got it. Dibs on the bathroom, B!”

                “It’s all yours,” agreed Betty, sitting on her bed and looking at the flowers again. She shook her head.

                _I have such strange friends,_ she thought fondly, their faces flashing before her eyes quickly: Veronica, Kevin, Archie, and Jughead. _But they’re the best_.

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a break, but... I couldn't stay away. I also wanted to do a Sweet Hereafter quote, in honour of the season finale next week, but very little from the film (and novel) would work for this chapter.


	4. Jonesing for a Fight

*

IV: Jonesing for a Fight

*

 _Some things in our lives are inevitable_ – Wolfgang, _Sense8_

*

  Betty knew Kevin had brushed her off regarding the whole Moose/skinny-dipping and finding-Jason’s-body discussion they had earlier that morning, but there was hardly any time between cheer practice, getting ready, breakfast, and class, to sit him down proper and really make sure he was okay.

    Even Archie’s “can we talk” letter from the weekend took a backseat; discussion in class was near impossible with Flutesnoot looming over them and watching with beady eyes their swishes and flicks and turning snuffboxes into mice – and then he wasn’t at lunch. Betty excelled in Charms and focused on Flitwick’s instructions and in Defense, practical meant no time to talk between dodging a _stupefy_ and flicking up a _protego_.

  Even Jughead was cagey that morning in Literature, still talking to her but she felt like there was some sort of wall between them – like he had been in Defense instead putting up a _protego_ and not her.

  In the end, Betty felt drained by the time Charms finished at five, and it was only the first day back at school since Kevin and Moose found Jason’s body. Fielding questions for morbidly curious students at lunch were difficult and privacy was non-existent.

  Kevin was visibly struggling under the weight of everyone’s questions – especially those who would try to push her or Veronica out of the way at the Hufflepuff table –, whereas Moose, surrounded by his very large and tall fellow Gryffindors, had protection.

  Betty pulled out her mirror, flicked it open, and looked into the reflective surface of the glass. “Kevin Keller,” she called clearly, ignoring Veronica’s curious look from her bed, where several textbooks were open.

  A few seconds later, Kevin’s face appeared. “Betty! Is everything okay?”

  “Wanna hang out in our dorm tonight, Kev? We’ll smuggle you in so you don’t trip the jinx,” offered Betty directly, seeing the tense lines around her friends’ face.

  Veronica gasped from her bed. She sat up, her eyes lit with an inner light. “Slumber party?!”

  A look of relief passed across Kevin’s face quickly, and then he was grinning. “Expect me soon.”

  Veronica squealed and Betty’s face lit up as well. She snapped her mirror shut as Kevin cut the connection at his end and began tidying up her end of the room.

  “I’m guessing you two have done this before?” her roommate asked with a gleam in her eye. Both girls were already dressed for bed, in their pajamas and makeup scrubbed off.

  Betty nodded. “Yeah. Kev’s... he’s the odd Gryffindor out, you know? Reggie and Moose are best friends, and Archie was always spending time with Jughead, so he never really had anyone else in Gryffindor. We ended up gravitating towards each other instead.”

  Veronica sighed. “You are _such_ a good friend.”

  Betty shuffled awkwardly beside her bed, gave a half-hearted shrug, and flashed a grin at her friend. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She moved towards the round porthole-like windows that spanned the back of their bedroom, which looked out to the grounds of Hogwarts.

  Veronica curiously followed her friends’ movements, trailing her. “What are you doing?”

  “All the girls’ rooms are jinxed at the doors to prevent the boys from coming in,” explained Betty. “In Gryffindor, the stairs turn into a slide; in Slytherin, they’re violently repelled down the corridor. Here, if a boy touches the door handles, an alarm sounds the door sticks shut.”

  “So how is Kevin getting in?”

  Betty smiled at her friend from over her shoulder. “The alarms aren’t on the windows, and I doubt anyone thought they could find the exact window that would allow someone entrance to a specific dorm room, too.”

  As she spoke, a pair of white sneakers speared before one of the windows, and a second later, Kevin appeared, kneeling and waving. Veronica laughed and Betty reached up, unlatching the window and swinging it open so they it laid completely flat against the bedroom wall.

  “That’s still a bit small,” commented Veronica as Kevin poked his head in.

  “Betty, would you do the honours?” asked Kevin.

  The blonde grinned and whipped her wand out from her pajama pocket, and with a flourish, stated clearly, “ _engorgio_ ,” watching as the window porthole widened just enough for Kevin. He pushed in a duffle bag first, and then sat on the ground and swung his legs into the room. He gripped the top of the windowsill carefully to slide himself in.

  Once in, Betty undid the charm and the window shrunk back to its original size.

  “How’s he going to get back out?” asked a wide-eyed Veronica.

  “The front door,” said Kevin, bending to unpack his pajamas and toiletries. “We’ve done this enough now that the rest of the ‘Puffs don’t look. I mean, everyone knows I’m gay so nothing is going on in here, and everyone loves Betty, so...”

  He shrugged.

  Betty just gave an embarrassed grin.

  Within a short amount of time, the three had finished getting ready, and Betty – the best at Charms – and Kevin, who was excellent at Transfiguration – had merged the girls’ two beds together into one large bed, piled high with all their pillows and a mishmash of soft yellow blankets.

  The three piled in together, Veronica and Betty on either side of Kevin. Once they had settled, Betty reached forward and laced her fingers with her friends’. “Now, tell me the truth: are you okay?”

  Veronica, lying on her side on Kevin’s either side, propped her head up with a hand and peered at him intently. Kevin glanced at her, and Betty, and then swallowed thickly and shut his eyes.

  “It was horrible.”

  The two girls were quiet.

  With his head tilted to the ceiling, Kevin quietly continued, “His face was pale, almost blue and grey. His cheeks were puffy, and it was weird. I remember that. Jason was always so... angular. Chiselled. His eyes were open and glassy, the only way you can tell the Killing Curse has been used because of the instant death. He was wearing summer clothes.”               

  Kevin inhaled sharply, tightly squeezing his eyes. A few tears leaked from the sides and Betty rolled closer to her friend. “Moose was – he was – throwing up in some bushes. I went closer. I don’t know why – I... I- I just had to _see_. His shirt rode up at one point, where he was floating in the water. I could see his chest and –”

  He broke off with a gasp and brought his hands to his face, pressing down on his eyes.

  “Kev, you don’t need to continue,” whispered Betty.

  He shook his head. “I do. I do.”

  He inhaled sharply and grit his teeth, eyes open and looking at his oldest friend. Veronica hovered over his shoulder, a silent witness.

  “He was bruised. Badly, like a Bludger had whacked him around the pitch a few times,” he said, his voice hard in a way Betty had rarely heard. “And there were these... cuts. I think from the Cutting curse, along his ribs. That’s how I knew he was tortured.”

  Veronica turned on her side, away from Kevin and Betty could see her shoulder’s hunch. Betty however, clamped her hand down tight on Kevin’s and did not move her eyes from his face. He needed her more than she could afford to let her emotions go.

  “Did you tell your dad any of this, Kev?” asked Betty quietly.

  Kevin snorted. “ _My_ dad? He’s barely managing the knowledge that I’m out of the wardrobe and figuring out how to communicate with me. Tell him someone I knew was tortured? I’d be shipped off to St. Mungo’s.”

  “You should see a Mind Healer for a bit,” suggested Betty lightly.

  Kevin pointedly looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Pot, cauldron.”

  Betty flushed, glancing away. “Fine. But if you need us – or to talk – or whatever –”

  Kevin gave Betty a smile. “I know.”

  “Good,” said Veronica from Kevin’s other side, and the two rolled to look at her. She had a fierce look on her face. “And you will take care of yourself, Kevin Keller; else you’ll have Veronica Lodge to dodge.”

  “Do you often talk of yourself in third person?” Betty asked, a small smile creeping on her face at Veronica’s exuberance and changing of the subject.

  The raven-haired witch looked at her nails and buffed them on her silk bathrobe. “Only when needed.”

  They descended into a mess of limbs with all three tangled together in a hug, that only broke apart when Kevin turned to Betty and slyly asked, “So what happened between you and Archie Andrews Friday night?”

  Betty tore herself from the hug in such a violent manner she fell off the side of the bed. Veronica and Kevin burst into laughter again.

  She scowled and stood, rubbing at her sore behind before crossing her arms and settling herself at the foot of the edge, legs crossed underneath her. “Nothing happened.”

  “What?” At Kevin’s disbelieving tone, he looked at Veronica for confirmation who gave a small shrug. “What do you mean, nothing happened? I thought you told him...?”

  “I did,” replied Betty, leaning forward and absently picking at a loose thread on the quilt. “And he freaked out. Later, when I saw him, he admitted to never having felt that way about me and never would.” A grimace swept across her face. “He said I was too perfect.”

  “Well, there are worse things to be called,” mused Kevin, a twisted expression on his face of half-surprise and half-disgust. He sighed. “Archie was never the brightest _lumos_ in the room, was he?”

  Veronica snickered. “I think Initiation Week for the Quidditch teams showed that, didn’t it?”

  The three fell into contemplative silence, each of them remembering the first week back when the Quidditch teams for all four houses – and their captains (Archie for Gryffindor, Chuck for Slytherin, Fletcher Foley for Ravenclaw, and Adam Chisholm for Hufflepuff) – got together with a bunch of hopefuls and ran them all through a gauntlet of hazing.

  There were two instances that ran through Betty’s mind: the first, when Archie led by example, as Moose refused to swim across a portion of the Black Lake (it turned out the Muggleborn couldn’t swim) and Chuck teased him for it, saying he’d forfeit his place on the Quidditch team. Archie took the second lap for Moose to ensure his chosen Beater kept his place on the Quidditch team. The second, however, was what she was sure Kevin and Veronica were remembering thanks to the naughty grins on their faces.

  New players – male ones, at least – were strongly encourage to participate in all initiations, and once again, Archie led Reggie and Moose, and that unknown third year, by stripping down naked and prancing across the pitch before astronomy the first Wednesday they’d been at school.

  Reggie, of course, was delighted to strip to the buff and flex his muscles to the large crowd of spectators, whereas Moose and Archie were a bit shyer (an irate Flitwick and Vector were spectators as well to that incident; apparently Professor Longbottom was the one who caught them and they all were now serving a weeks’ detention scrubbing cauldrons without magic). But a buff Archie was always worth a second look.

 _Or has someone else caught your interest?_ A voice asked and Betty felt her cheeks redden, as the image of Archie was replaced with a teen with black hair and grey knit beanie...

  “Is it our dear redheaded hottie that is making those cheeks so pink, B?” teased Veronica, and Betty’s startled eyes snapped to her friend. The shock snapped her out of her quick daydream, and Betty’s rosy cheeks turned scarlet when she realized what she had fantasized.

  “All those bulging muscles?” offered Kevin.

  “His rugged good looks?”

  “That firm, perky ass—”

  “ _NO_!”

  Kevin’s mouth dropped open and Veronica’s eyebrows hiked up.

  “The lady doth protest much, methinks,” quoted Veronica with a shark-like grin. “We might not purchase, but we can still window shop, right?”

  “It wasn’t Archie—”

  Betty snapped her mouth shut. She let her annoyance at her friends’ needling loosen her lips. _I didn’t mean to say that_.

  “What?!” Kevin gasped, sitting upright.

  “Yes, what?” echoed Veronica, leaning forward on the bed and then falling onto her stomach, peering up at her friend from her propped up chin. “Was it Moose? Or Reggie? ‘Cause I mean, Moose is sweet and all, but I think you need someone a bit more intellectually stimulating, B.”

  “Reggie’s pretty yum,” mused Kevin, tapping a finger on his chin. “I mean, if you go for the arrogant type.”

  Betty firmly pressed her lips together.

  Veronica was eyeing her shrewdly, watching Betty carefully while she, on the other hand, resolutely looked at the quilt.

  A snap of fingers had Betty looking up. Veronica was sitting on her knees on the bed, a victorious smile on her face. “It was the tall and dark mystery, right?”

  Kevin’s head whipped around from facing Veronica to Betty. “ _Jughead?_ ”

  “Your very own Judd Nelson, right?” Veronica wriggled her eyebrows. “I’m right, aren’t I? Right?”           

  “Betty!” chimed in Kevin. “Details! O-M-M. NOW!”

  “ _Oh em em_?” asked Betty finally, finding her voice.

  Kevin waved a hand airily, then grabbed one of the throw pillows behind him and hugged it. “Oh my, Merlin. And stop changing the subject. _Jughead_ Jones? Hello!”

  “We had lunch on Saturday,” admitted Betty at Veronica’s eager look, one that matched Kevin’s. “I wanted to catch up with him since I hadn’t seen him all summer.”

  “Catch up, is that what you kids are calling it now?” Veronica grinned. “Spill, B!”

  Betty shrugged. “It was only an hour. My mom didn’t want me gone longer than that.”

  Kevin nodded sagely. “Mrs. Cooper is scary.”

  “What did you talk about? And _when_ did this crush happen?” asked Veronica. “I thought you were all into Archie?”

  Betty sighed. “I think I was more into the _idea_ of Archie than it actually happening. And we just... talked, I guess. I saw him in Lit last week and Ancient Runes and we... made plans.”

  “That’s right,” said Veronica, turning to Kevin. “You called him her other half.”

  “Ummm,” at Kevin’s wide-eyed stare, Veronica elaborated.

  “It’s destiny!”

  Betty snorted. “Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure Kev was referring to the fact that we’ve been friends since we were little. Me, Archie, and Jughead. The Three Musketeers.”

  “There were four, actually.”

  “Not the point, Kev!” Veronica turned her eyes on her best friend. “But ‘other half’ – that’s a strange choice of words.”

  Put on the spot, with two sets of brown and green eyes staring at him, Kevin floundered. “I- uh – I didn’t mean... I probably should have said Betty’s other third?”

  “Nuh-uh,” argued Veronica. “Freudian slip, my friend. _Explain_.”

  “I have to admit, I’m curious about this too, Kev,” admitted Betty.

  With a sigh, Kevin squished the throw pillow tighter. “ _Fine_.” He turned to Betty. “Please – please don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”

  “Okay...” agreed Betty slowly, while Veronica’s gleeful expression turned pensive.

  “ _Everyone_ knew you had a thing for Archie. It was like an open secret,” explained Kevin. “But I think we all knew that nothing was ever going to come out of it, because – well, you valued your friendship with him too much, I think, but also because everyone knew your mom hates him.”

  “What does that have to do with Jughead?” the wrinkle to Veronica’s nose let Betty know that the nickname wasn’t something that was going to grow on the girl.

  “Well, we said it, didn’t we? Archie’s not the brightest,” said a reluctant Kevin. “Betty’s _smart_ and _kind_ and _helpful_. She’s... too good for him.”

  Betty winced, and it didn’t escape her friends’ notice.

  “Betty?” asked Veronica.

  “That’s what Archie said. That he’d never be good enough for me,” admitted Betty quietly. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and canted her eyes to the side, not wanting to see pity in their eyes.

  Veronica snorted. “Damn straight.”

  Kevin was nodding in agreement when Betty looked up. “He wouldn’t have challenged you, Betty. Maybe he was a red stallion and your best friend, but he wasn’t always the _best_ friend someone could be.” He pointedly looked at her. “Or did I imagine all those conversations when he was out on a date in Hogsmeade with a different girl each time?”

  Betty sighed. “No, you didn’t imagine anything.”

  “Archie’s _swell_ ,” Kevin repeated what he told her before school began. “And he’s your friend. But he’d never be a good boyfriend. I supported the idea of the two of you because it was what _you_ wanted and you're important to me.” He paused. “Now, Jughead Jones—”

  “Okay, hold it, what is up with that name?” burst Veronica. “And _why_ is Hogwarts’ resident hipster suddenly good enough for our girl, B?”

  “It’s his nickname,” explained Betty. “He doesn’t like his actual name at all.”

  “Is it embarrassing?” asked Veronica.

  Betty and Kevin shared a look, both knowing his birth name. “Um, it’s definitely a mouthful,” was Kevin’s tactful reply.

  “Fine,” huffed the girl. “So how is he good enough for B?”

  Kevin looked at Betty for help, but she shrugged and said, “I want to know this too, Kev.”

  He groaned, fell flat on his back on the bed, and put the pillow on his face to cover. “Really? Other than he’s _always_ been there for you, supported you – he pushes you out of your comfort zone and you pull him back.”

  At the blank stares he received, he elaborated. “The Pygmy Puff Incident of 2008?”

  Betty blushed. “He was trying to cheer me up.”

  “You ended up playing a prank on Reggie for an entire week.”

  “He used Archie’s Pygmy Puff as a Quaffle!”

  “Jughead wanted to set the Mantle family's Granian winged racing horses loose in response, but saw you crying and yelling at Reggie and changed his mind.”

  The confession brought Betty up short, leaving her to blink in surprise, her mouth open in a small ‘o’.

  “How... how do you know that? You joined us in nursery nearly three years later,” she finally stuttered.

  Kevin shrugged. “You and Polly were sick with Dragon Pox one week and we were playing Exploding Snap and talking about pranks and he confessed it.”

  Veronica, who had been bouncing her head back and forth between Kevin and Betty, curled her lips into a smile.

  “Well, well,” she purred. She caught Betty’s stunned, wide green eyes. “I do believe we have a contender.”

*

  Archie and Betty finally spoke on Wednesday, as the Hufflepuffs joined the Gryffindors for Transfiguration. Kevin and Veronica had sped up, pulling Reggie, Moose, Trevor, Val, and a few others of their year mates into a loud conversation and leaving them to lag behind.

  Both were awkward, unsure of what to say when Betty finally took the plunge. She kept her eyes on the stone flooring, her hands tightly wrapped around her backpack straps. “Even though you don’t like me like that, I still want us to be friends. Best friends.”

  “You do?” at the surprise and happiness in Archie’s voice, she looked up and caught his eyes.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly, a small, embarrassed smile on her face.

  “I mean, that’s great, Betty,” breathed Archie, grinning back. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Me, too.”

  Betty glanced down and then shyly looking back from under her lashes. “I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt...”

  Archie turned and grabbed her shoulder, peering down at her earnestly. “And I’m sorry, Betty, I didn’t do it to be a – I don’t know. I just I thought it would be better in the long run...”

  She smiled. “And it will be.”

  They had stopped walking, well behind their classmates, and still some distance from the third floor Transfiguration classroom for their afternoon lesson. Looking at each other, they shuffled their shoes and Betty scuffed one pointed toe on the floor.

  Archie gave a nervous laugh. “Friends?”

  “Friends,” she agreed, and then Archie reached forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

  Once, a hug from Archie would’ve been like a warm hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day – like surviving a rocky, horrible storm and finding a safe harbour. Once, it would’ve sent tingles down her spine and heat her cheeks up.

  Now –

  She exhaled and wrapped her arms around him too, rubbing her cheek a bit against his warm chest. Archie was still safe, and comfortable, but more like a favourite childhood blanket kept for when she felt sick. He smelled of himself, a musky spice, and Betty was instantly transported to rough n tumble play dates when they were younger; to spending time at the Andrews’ house helping Fred Andrews fix that enchanted Muggle appliances they had around; to warm summer nights and sticky ice-lollies.

  Archie smelled and felt like nostalgia and the past – and Betty realized then that she had been in love with the idea far more than the boy. He was still one of the most important people in her life, and she knew it would be difficult for her to turn that part off – the one that screamed ‘help Archie!’ when he crooked his finger or gave her a particular smile – but...

 _It’ll be easier now,_ she thought, pulling from him. They turned and headed for Flutesnoot's class, now tardy. However, things felt better between them than it had in some time. If Betty were honest, things felt calmer, better than they had been for years.

  “So,” began Archie. “Um. Anything new going on?”

  Betty laughed. “Since we last saw each other?”

  “I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot of things this summer,” he admitted quietly. “Between you being in New York for your internship, and working construction with my dad, and Jug...”

  “What happened between you two?” she asked.

  Archie ran a hand through his red hair, sighing deeply as he did so. “I fucked up, Betty. I promised him we’d do something and then – then I bailed.”

  Betty frowned. “You’ve done that before on us, Arch. What made this time different?”

  He winced at her words. “Um. I lied to my dad and he covered for me. And then when he asked me to tell him the truth – I uh... I couldn’t. And he... he was done. Like that. I didn’t hear from him again all summer. Or see him.”

  “He had a summer job,” answered Betty, “Working at the Twilight.”

  Archie glanced at her in surprise. “How’d you know that?”

  “I saw him on Saturday when we had lunch,” answered Betty. “Haven’t you spoken to him?”

  Archie flushed. “Barely. I saw him after Cheryl’s party.”

  “Before we met up or after?” Betty narrowed her eyes, remembering Jughead’s awkward greeting that night.

  “Before,” replied Archie. “I think... I think he might have forgiven me.”

  “That’s good then, isn’t it Arch?” asked Betty, her ponytail bouncing as she turned to face him. They had reached the third floor, and only had to walk the distance of the hallway; most of their classmates were already inside.

  He shrugged. “Don’t feel like I deserve it, though.”

  “Forgiveness is freely given,” said Betty. “You need to earn his trust back, but Juggie’s always cared about you. You’re his best friend. He’d forgive anything.”

  “Merlin, I hope so,” he muttered. “I miss him.”

  “Small steps, right?” offered Betty.

  Archie nodded. “He said that I should apologize to you, and that you'd forgive me. If that worked, I guess I could do the same with him... I just wish things were back to the way they were. How it was before this summer.”

  Betty’s shoulder slumped, and they stopped just outside Flutesnoot's door. They could hear him through the closed door, speaking loudly about something - probably review. “Yeah,” she said, thinking of Jason, and of Polly.

  “Hey, we haven’t had a study session yet, and I know I’m going to need some help,” Archie said unexpectedly, causing Betty to turn and look at him. He continued, “I was thinking the upper year common room on the fourth floor? Near the Charms room? Tomorrow?”

  “This has nothing to do with the fact that Professor Flutesnoot set a test in Transfiguration for Monday, does it?” Betty narrowed her eyes.

  Archie’s responding, sheepish grin resulted in Betty rolling her eyes.

  “Fine. Right after Defense,” she agreed, poking him in the chest as Archie reached for the door and opened it.

  “Ms. Cooper, Mr. Andrews,” called Professor Flutesnoot in a deep, gravelly voice. “How nice of you to join us. Five points each from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Find your seats and pull out your wands, please. We already began our review for Monday's test.”

  The two hurriedly did as told, sharing a grin. It was just like old times.

*

  Veronica had Block 1 Languages, heading off to that class while Betty, Kevin, and Archie wandered to the upper year common room. While each House had a common room meant for their house mates, new changes at Hogwarts also meant that each year cluster (the first through second; third through fifth; and then sixth and seventh years) had their own common rooms, separated by age. Often, Betty and her friends, as well as her fellow year group often hung out in the upper year common room. 

  So they set up their textbooks and notes from Transfiguration in a corner of the common room, at a six-person table underneath a window, and Kevin’s notes. As the best of the group in Transfiguration, he had been tutoring Betty and Archie for years, and when he wasn’t available, Betty would pick up the slack.

  Eventually, the pre-dinner crowd of sixth and seventh years began to trickle in. Betty barely noticed Jughead slink in behind the Quidheads, all of whom were loudly discussing the chances of France for the World Cup.

  Betty attempted a wave, but Jughead kept his head down and found another corner – far, far away, and close to the fireplace – for his work, although he was more interested in reading his book than working on any assignments.

  “Leave him be,” whispered Archie, who followed her gaze. “There’s a free seat here if he wants to join us.”

  Betty bit her lip, aware that Archie had gone back to assignment but Kevin was watching her carefully.

  They worked quietly, with Kevin sometimes demonstrating a particular wand movement that Archie and Betty copied. They ignored the loud discussion and growing voices and laughter from the Quidditch players, who were all clustered around a couple couches. Reggie had a Quaffle in his hands.

  “I’m just saying, Head Auror Keller’s grilling _me_ , Mantle the Magnificent. ‘Cause I’d want Blossom dead, when he was, like, the only good Chaser Hogwarts had ever seen,” Reggie was saying, his voice grating and obnoxiously entitled. Archie scowled at the insult, being the Gryffindor captain and Chaser.

  Reggie tossed the Quaffle back and forth between his hands. Betty saw him stop pitching the ball, and turn to look at Moose, who sat across from him. “And speaking of offensive tight-ends, I should’ve sent the Aurors to you, Moose! Because here’s another unsolved mystery. What exactly were you and Kevin doing at the Black Lake, huh?”

  Reggie leaned back a bit on the couch to look in the direction of their table, pitching his voice towards them without addressing them. “Or does being with the Head Auror’s son give you a free pass? Huh? Keller?”

  Betty leaned forward and whispered to Kevin, “Reggie’s just being a blowhard, Kev.”

  Kevin was determinedly looking at his parchment. “I don’t care what he says.”

  From his corner, Jughead glanced up, an annoyed expression on his face, and directed a glare at Reggie.

  “I mean, let’s think about it. If a kid at Hogwarts killed Jason, it’s not gonna be a Quidhead, right?” the tall teen continued. “We all liked Blossom – well, most of us anyway. And some of us,” he said with a leer towards Betty, “knew those who liked him a bit more, if you get what I’m saying? Man, those good witches - sweethearts by day, freaks in the sheets by night!”

  His friends laughed, although Moose looked uncomfortable. Betty herself stiffened at the perceived insult to Polly - and herself - and Kevin glanced nervously at her while Archie's eyes narrowed at his dorm mate.

  Jughead had finally had enough and roughly began packing his bag. His movements caught Reggie’s attention.

  “Oh, no,” murmured Betty, her hands clenching under the table. Archie and Kevin both turned their heads and looked to where she was looking.

  “No, let’s be honest. Isn’t it always some spooky, scrawny, pathetic Mountain troll, too busy writing his manifestos to get laid?” Reggie asked loudly, eyes trained on Jughead’s form as he veered around the furthest couch and attempted to move by where Reggie was sitting. “Some smug, moody, serial killer fanboy freak, like... Jughead?”

  Chuck Clayton gave off a rather loud snicker, and Cedric Evans outright laughed – ignoring the bullying of their fellow housemate.

  Reggie lifted himself up and over the back of the couch, Quaffle still in his hands as he stopped in front of Jughead. “What was it like, snake? When you killed Jason? Did it feel good? Hitting him with the Killing Curse? You didn’t do stuff to the body, _did_ you? Like _after_?”

  Archie stood up abruptly, his chair clattering back and falling off its legs. The common room had gone silent.

  Jughead was eyeing Reggie, his face blank. He still wore his Slytherin uniform, sans robes. The black of his cardigan offset the paleness of his face, and Betty was dismayed to notice that the bags had returned under his eyes.

  Archie took a few steps forward.

  “Well, Spattergroit?” Reggie tossed the ball back and forth lightly, eyes intently on Jughead.

  Jughead audibly sighed in the silent room, all eyes on him. “It’s called _necrophilia_ , Reggie, can you spell it?”

  Reggie flushed. He gripped the Quaffle tightly, his knuckles going white. He took a menacing step forward. “Come here, you little—”

  Archie darted forward. “Hey, shut the hell up, Reggie!”

  Reggie turned his attention to Archie, his face a splotchy red. “Stay out of this Andrews – you’re not even talking to the freak anymore. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice how your bromance cooled since sixth year began?”

  Archie flushed in response.

  Kevin was already on his feet, palming his wand. Slowly, Betty began to stand, her own wand in her right hand while her left curled on the tabletop, nails digging into her flesh.

  “Boys,” she said lowly, hoping to draw their attention to the ‘p’ pinned to her robes.

 "What? Got something to say, Andrews?" asked Reggie, posturing.

  Archie stammered for a response, eyes cutting to Jughead who was watching him curiously, wanting to see what he would do. “N-No, just leave him alone...”

  Betty wanted to slam her palm into her forehead. _Really? After telling me you two made up? Great going, Arch._

  “Merlin’s beard. Did you and Donnie Darko kill him together?” Reggie’s mouth was open, but the glee Betty heard in his voice indicated that he didn’t take what he was saying seriously at all. Reggie was always a bit dimwitted when it came to popularity and getting what he wanted – and with Professor Longbottom passing him up at the end of fifth year for the Gryffindor captaincy, it made sense that he would pick at Archie and his friends by extension.

  “Reggie!” warned Betty, stepping forward.

  He barely glanced in her direction, but Jughead stiffened at her voice. Archie turned wide blue eyes on her, but Reggie continued speaking. “Was it some sort of pervy, blood brother thing? Did—”

  Whatever he was going to say next was lost. Archie dove forward, ignoring his wand completely and caught Reggie around the middle. He tackled him and they slammed to the floor, loud gasps escaping them from the impact.

  The quidditch players on the couch all shot to their feet, wands out, and someone – Betty was sure it was Fangs Fogarty, that little shit – cast _confringo_ and Archie, Jughead, and Reggie were blown in different directions. Archie landed heavily into a table, which shattered and splintered; Jughead landed hard on his side and Reggie slammed against the far wall, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

  Archie gingerly got up, clutching his side, and then suddenly Fangs was on him; Moose and Cedric were trading spells and flashes of light and Chuck was at Reggie’s side, checking him.

  Somehow, Jughead was swallowed into the mass of upper year students, and disappeared from Betty’s line of sight. Fear spiked through her.

  “Merlin!” gasped Kevin, and both he and Betty waded into the crowd of boys, some fighting with their wands and others, like Archie and Fangs, with this fists.

  “That’s _enough_!” someone shouted, pointing their wand at the ceiling and letting off a loud blast, which echoed throughout the room. Immediately, everyone stopped moving, and the crowd parted to reveal Trevor, the other Hufflepuff prefect, and Theodosius Tadpole, the Ravenclaw Head Boy. Both had their wands out.

  Betty, who had stepped forward with Kevin to attempt to separate Archie and Jughead from Fangs, found herself frozen next to her friend. She swallowed at the disappointed look in Trevor’s eyes.

  Instead, to avoid looking at him, she surveyed the common room. The table Archie had fallen into was in pieces; one of the couches had overturned onto its side, and there was a blast mark from the _confringo_ earlier on the floor where Reggie had blocked Jughead. There were loose pieces of parchment – a few still floating gently down in the air – and several feathers from a ripped pillow covering the floor.

  Chuck had an arm wrapped around Reggie, and was shuffling him out of the room. Moose and Cedric were both disheveled, but nothing serious. Fangs, Archie, and Jughead however, seemed to be caught in a three-way struggle, ignoring the fact that Trevor and Theodosius had entered the room. Archie had a tight grip in Fangs’ robes; while in return, Fangs had his hands covering his nose, blood pouring between his fingers.

  Kevin scowled, and aimed his wand at the middle of the group. “ _Expulso!_ ”

  The three were shoved apart by a firm, invisible hand. Archie’s right eye was swollen shut, and Jughead had lost his hat somewhere. Once separated from the group, he leaned against the arm of a chair, his head bowed, and his hands pressed against his forehead, breathing deeply.

  Betty stepped forward, next to Jughead, while Kevin moved to stand by Archie.

  “Five points from _each_ of you for fighting,” snapped Theodosius, meeting everyone’s eyes to take a mental tally of which House they belonged to, and who was there.

  “Juggie,” whispered Betty, reaching up to hover a hand next to his injured check.

  He looked up at her, his deep blue eyes clouded. A red mark against his cheek indicated he had taken a punch, and his forehead was a bit red; _he must have head butted Fangs to break his nose_ , thought Betty.

  People who were in the room but didn’t fight slowly began speaking, and their voices slowly rose in volume. Trevor was going around to everyone in the fight, healing what he could while Theodosius was sending others to the Infirmary.

  “Betts,” he murmured, flushing slightly.

  “Hey man, you okay?”

  Both turned to see Archie standing awkwardly next to Kevin, who had a frown fixed on his face, arms crossed and his wand still very visible and in his grip.

  Jughead cut Archie some stink-eye, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied shortly. He then turned his back on his friend, eyes to the floor, searching for his beanie.

  “ _Accio_ Jughead’s hat,” murmured Betty, and the small grey beanie soared through the air from under the overturned couch and into her hand.

  “Jug – I didn’t mean –”

  “Let it go, Archie,” cautioned Kevin lowly.

  Jughead ignored the two Gryffindors in front of them and turned back to her, reaching for his trademark hat. His fingers brushed Betty’s and she _felt_ him pause. His wide eyes met hers. Then, he had a grip on his hat and swiftly shoved it on his head, eyes dropped back to the ground.

  “Thanks, Betts,” he said, and flicked his wand, silently casting. Betty’s eyes widened at the non-verbal command, and watched as his school bag floated up from his place on the floor, his parchment, quills, and inkpots all floating back into the cloth satchel.

  “Juggie, do you want me to help...?” she trailed off and motioned at his face.

  He gave her a tiny smile. “Nah. I’ve had worse. Don’t worry about me.” He gave a tiny salute to her, met Kevin with a nod, and strode past Archie without a word, exiting the room.

  As he did so, he bumped into Veronica, who was just about to enter. She turned slightly on her heels to watch him leave, a startled, “Whaa?” on her lips. When she turned back, her eyes widened at the state of the room.

  “Kev, B,” her eyes lit on Archie, “Archiekins. What did I miss?”

  Archie groaned into his hands, and Betty didn’t have the energy to know where to begin, other than think, _never a dull moment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_.

*

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on a one-shot of Betty/Kevin. Also - the initiation stuff is canon, as per the Riverdale comics. I only got to read them today (even though they had been sitting on my shelf for a bit), and you'll see more integration from them as they're released and I pick them up. LOVED the image of Reggie, Archie and Moose streaking for initiation week - esp Reggie's grin!


	5. To Aid and A Bett

*

V: To Aid and A Bett

*

“With my brains and your looks, we could go places.”  
– Frank Chambers (John Garfield), _The Postman Always Rings Twice_ (1946)

*

While dinner was a riotous affair for the younger years, while the upper years – especially those who had been in the common room – were a bit quieter. And if their noise level didn’t indicate the heightened tensions between the four Houses, then the anxious, embarrassed, and guilty looks over several of the Quidditch players involved in the brawl were enough to feed the Hogwarts gossip mill for a few days.

Archie hunched over his plate at the Gryffindor table with Kevin to his right, their backs to Veronica and Betty who sat at the Hufflepuff table. Several other Gryffs craned their necks and some of the second years even stood on the benches to spot the scowling redhead, who was trying to hide the nasty purple bruise on his face.

“Didn’t Pomfrey offer to heal it?” asked Veronica, and Betty detected a tinge of _something_ in her tone as she peered into Archie’s face.

Archie flushed. It was an odd look with the purple and black on his face. “She refused. She said I could live with it if I was going to fight.”

“Damn straight – did you forget you are a wizard?” snorted Kevin, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork.

Archie hunched further into his seat.

“A quick announcement before you all go off to bed,” announced McGonagall near the end of dinner once most had finished eating and were just lagging. “This is a reminder that Quidditch season officially begins the first week of October – two weeks from now – and that the first match of the season is Gryffindor/Ravenclaw. Off you trot then.”

Obediently, the student population rose to their feet and began to task of shuffling back to their respective common rooms.  Betty lingered, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Looking for someone in particular?” asked a coy voice by her ear, and she tilted her head to see Kevin grinning widely, leaning just a bit down so his mouth was level with her ear.

Betty sighed. “He just went off... without...”

“Jughead’s a bit of a lone wolf,” said Kevin quietly. “And lone wolves lick their wounds in private.”

“He shouldn’t be,” protested Betty. “We’re his friends. He should be with us.”

Kevin quirked an eyebrow. “Best hurry to catch him then, it looks like he’s slipping out.”

At his words, Betty turned her head back to the entrance hall, and saw the distinct grey beanie begin to merge with the exodus of Hogwarts students; Jughead was not with the fifth years or any of the upper years, but towering over the first and second years, allowing them to maneuver him with their momentum.

Betty pushed past a few fourth years, ignoring their calls of “hey!” as well as Veronica’s “where’s she going?” and a muffled reply from Archie. She kept her eyes focused on that grey beanie, pushing against the divide of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws heading up to their towers, while the Hufflepuffs and Slytherin went down to their setts and dens.

“Jughead!” she called, turning her body slightly and pushing against a sixth year as she lost sight of her friend. “Juggie!”

The seventh year – a Slytherin she didn’t know – pushed back against her. “Oi, watch it, blondie.”

Betty winced and hunched her shoulder, still trying to push past him. “Sorry, I’m looking for my friend—”

“Don’t care,” the seventh year retorted, and then gave her another shove – this one harder – and the crowd parted at just the right time between the passageways, and then Betty was stumbling back through that gap.

She was ready to fall – no way for her to bring her wand up for a cushioning charm that quickly – when two hands caught her shoulders; one then wrapped around her stomach, hauling her back firmly and the other, still on her shoulder, steadied her.

“Are you okay?”

Betty twisted her head up to look behind her. Familiar blue eyes peered down at her, half exasperated, half amused.

“Following me now, Cooper?” grinned Jughead.

She matched his grin. “You wish.”

He mock sighed in response. “You’re breaking my heart.”

Betty roamed her eyes across his face, noticing the red mark on his cheek had slightly faded. He still looked a bit tired, but with the commotion in the common room, and Jason’s body, some of it was to be expected.

But she blushed – feeling the colour rise on her cheeks hotly and then spread down her neck –, realizing that he still had his warm and solid arm wrapped across her stomach. Jughead pulled her more firmly against his chest and drew her away from the crowd, especially the rowdier upper years. They moved towards the wall, between two suits of armour and out of the way.

Her feet tangled in his, and they nearly tripped until he leaned against the stone behind him, she tucked securely in his arm.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he chided quietly, head tucked down and hovering over her shoulder as they both looked out at the dwindling crowd of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, the two having separated from the other two Houses in the entrance hall.

Betty felt a tiny smile creep onto her face. “Not if you’re with me. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

She felt more than heard Jughead’s quick inhale, his chest pressing into her back. Then, the gentle, cool exhale of his breath by her neck had her shiver. The hand that settled on her far left hip tightened its grip – an almost reflexive squeeze – and then gentled.

“‘Course not,” he finally agreed, quietly. “Never, Betts.”

Betty spotted Veronica walking by with Trevor and Ambrose, animatedly speaking to them and waving her hands; it was quick, but she saw her dark eyes dart in their direction, once, although they were half-shadowed in the alcove. She didn’t pause in her discussion or walk, but Betty was sure there would be an inquisition later.

“You should probably get back to your dorm,” murmured Jughead, loosening his grip around her stomach. “The crowd’s almost gone.”

“I wanted to check up on you,” said Betty in response, slowly stepping out of his grasp, although she was loathed to do so.

 _There’s something so warm and comforting about his arm_ , she thought with a mental sigh. But when his hand trailed across her stomach and right hip as she moved, Betty was sure she wasn’t the only one enjoying the feeling of being pressed close.

“I’m fine,” he said with a twist of his lips. “I’m always alright.”

Betty turned to face him. He lounged against the wall, arms hanging by his side now that he wasn’t touching her, a small upturn of his lips indicating he was well on his way to a defensive smirk.

“Liar,” she whispered.

His eyes snapped to hers, and Betty was frozen. Something sizzled between them – something foreign and unknown but something she very much wanted to feel again. He seemed to be thinking the same, because his hand reached out and cupped her cheek, his eyes moving across her face, cataloguing everything, but mostly flicking between her eyes and lips.

She swallowed, tilting her chin up in invitation.

His eyes darkened, and he slowly tilted his head while the hand on her cheek increased pressure slightly, directing her face closer.

Betty’s eyes fluttered shut, and she felt his breath on her face.

_Mrreoooow._

Betty leapt back from Jughead, nearly stumbling over her feet again, despite his hand on her cheek slipping down to grab her arm.

Both turned and saw the mangy tabby that followed Filch around, Mr. Perry; the cat’s beady yellow eyes were locked on them. It was only then that they noticed they were alone in the hallway.

“Shit,” muttered Jughead. “Filch’ll be on his way. Go – you don’t want to get caught. You’re a Prefect.”

“As a Prefect, I have an excuse to be out,” argued Betty, eyes still on the cat, whose tail was twitching. “You don’t.”

“Did you hear something, Mr. Perry? Some students out of bounds tonight?” called a voice from up by the entrance hall.

“Shit,” muttered Jughead again. “ _Shit_ – Betts, _go_.”

“Not a chance,” she muttered back, stepping back and taking him with her. And then they were running, Jughead’s hand in hers and pulling her further along down into the dungeons. They were breathing heavily by the time they reached the Slytherin dorm entrance, a blank wall with a tiny snake motif.

“Are you going to be okay back to your dorm?” asked Jughead quietly, eyes peering into the darkness and wondering if Filch and Mr. Perry were going to come swooping out of the dark.

“I’ll be fine,” promised Betty. “Prefect, remember? Besides... I wanted to see you after everything that happened this afternoon. Reggie shouldn’t have said those things.”

“I don’t care what he says about me,” argued Jughead, “But I do care when he brings you into it.”

Betty blinked. “Jug – you know not to take Reggie seriously. No one does, he’s just being a dick to get everyone’s attention.”

“He should know better,” argued Jughead, shaking his head. “He can say what he wants about me – everyone does anyway – but not you. Never you.”

He was staring at her intently as he spoke, some hidden message in his words that she didn’t quite know how to decipher yet. That sizzle, the one that burst into life between them earlier, returned. She felt her breathing increase, her chest rising and falling a bit quicker. Jughead’s eyes were hooded and drawn to the edge of her cardigan, before flickering up to look into her green eyes.

“Betts?” he murmured lowly, asking permission, asking _why him_ , asking _why now_ but most of all, asking _are you sure?_

She took a step forward, holding his gaze.

_Mrrroooww._

Jughead swore again under his breath, taking a step back and bringing his hand up to rub at his face. Betty however, frowned. Without thinking, she followed him forward, pushed up on her toes and quickly pressed her lips to his.

Startled, it took a moment, and then he brought his hands to her cheeks. He kept her in place, his lips returning the pressure and stealing her very breath.

“Mr. Perry? What did you find?”

Betty yanked back from his hands, breathing heavily just as Filch turned the corner. His hunched, old form and cruel eyes took in the two students – one staring at the Hufflepuff in surprise while she was looking at the Slytherin.

“Mr. Filch,” the Hufflepuff said, and Betty turned a dazzling smile on him. “I was escorting Jughead back to his dorm, since he’s out after curfew.”

“And yourself missy?” the caretaker growled.

Betty pointed at the ‘p’ badge on her chest. “I’m a Prefect doing my rounds, sir!” She turned to Jughead. “Five points from Slytherin for being out of curfew.”

Jughead, still stunned, nodded mutely.

“Fine,” grumbled Filch. “Come, Mr. Perry. Let’s try the fifth floor.” He gave Jughead a nasty glare, and snarled, “Best get in your dorm, boy, before I find the Headmistress and hang you up by your thumbs – oh yes, I will.”

She waited until his form disappeared back up towards the entrance hall, and then turned to Jughead. He had a few fingers touching his lips.

“You’d best go,” he finally said, lowering his hand.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked.

He paused, but then slowly nodded. “I’ll sit with you in the Great Hall.”

“I’d like that very much,” replied Betty quietly.

He turned to the entrance, spoke the password (“ _Salazar_ ”), and stepped in as the wall parted. Before he could disappear into the Slytherin common room, Betty called his name. He turned, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Ten points _to_ Slytherin, for being a fantastic kisser,” said Betty quietly.

A grin split his face, and the wall shut between them.

It didn’t feel like an ending though – but rather, a beginning of something new.

*

Betty was incredibly awake the next morning after cheer practice, despite Cheryl never having shown up – Veronica led the routine instead. The previous night had ended on a high, and Betty was eager for not only the return of her friend, but also for potentially exploring things between them.

Fridays were elective days for the sixth years; Betty had a block of language first thing that morning, and already had her textbook on Gobbledegook packed away along with her Ancient Runes text. Once those classes were done, she’d be free from lunch onward.

As it was a Friday morning filled with electives, the Great Hall was mostly empty of the sixth years. Most Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were either sleeping in (due to not having morning electives) or just slowly trickling in before planning a study session in the Great Hall or one of the common rooms. As such, it was only Veronica who was awake out of their group of friends (having come from cheer practice, too), sitting with Betty when someone unexpected sat next to the blonde at the Hufflepuff table. Veronica nearly spilled her juice when she realized who it was.

Betty, on the other hand, beamed at her friend, passing him a warm plate of bacon. Jughead accepted, slid nearly half the meat off and onto the plate on the table, and then reached for some other breakfast foods until his plate was piled high and overly full.

Veronica stared. “Where does that all _go_?”

Jughead shrugged, forking another piece of eggs into his mouth. He swallowed and replied, “No idea. I’m just hungry all the time.”

Betty finished only one plate of food – usually toast and eggs for first thing in the morning – while Veronica took to the yoghurt and fruit route; as they finished, and Jughead moved onto his second full plate, Kevin sat across from Veronica with a heavy thump, eyes bright and wide.

“Have you heard?”

Veronica and Betty shared a look, but Jughead seemed indifferent to the gossip. Veronica shook her head. Kevin leaned in, and Betty and Veronica copied him. Jughead watched curiously but refused to move from inhaling his food.

“Cheryl was arrested yesterday by my dad,” said Kevin quietly.

“What?” screeched Veronica, just as Betty reared back in shock. Jughead’s arm came up behind her, hovering on her back to hold her in place and to stop her from losing her balance on the bench.

Kevin nodded emphatically. “We didn’t see anything because we all had class and were then in the upper common room,” explained Kevin, “But seventh year Ravenclaw Trula Twyst heard it from Wendy Weatherbee, who was in Potions with Cheryl when it happened.”

 _Wendy_ , thought Betty, frowning at the thought of her sister’s best friend – someone she hadn’t spoken to yet about Polly. She made a mental note to find the girl later.

Clearly, they were not the only ones discussing it, and there was a great deal of hushed discussion and surprise going around the students who were already at breakfast; and each time someone new appeared and sat at their table, they were pulled into the conversation. At this point, a sleepy Archie collapsed onto the Hufflepuff bench next to Kevin and opposite Betty and Jughead. He reached for the diminished plate of bacon, only unable to reach it immediately, so he asked, “Jug – pass the bacon.”

Jughead’s eyebrow rose. The hand by Betty’s back dropped and he reached for the plate of bacon, doing so silently and waiting for Archie to realize what he said. Archie grabbed the plate, eyes still half-closed, and used his fork to nudge off three or four slices before pausing, the plate awkwardly hovering above the table.

His eyes snapped open and his comically did a double take at his ex-best friend sitting across from him. “ _Jug_?!”

“Hiya, Arch,” the Slytherin said sarcastically. “How’s it going?”

Archie’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. “I – uh – I-I, uh... I’m good. You, man?”

Jughead’s mouth twisted into his familiar half-smirk, and Betty felt her heart squeeze; he was about to lie. “Oh, I’m fine. You know – hanging out with my _friends_.”

Archie winced, and Betty’s brow furrowed. She shifted a bit next to Jughead, a tiny bit closer so that her thigh pressed against his. Jughead stiffened, startled by the action, and from the corner of his eye with his face slightly turned in her direction, peered down at her.

Unaware of the byplay between the two, Archie cleared his throat, and asked the table at large, “What were we discussing?”

Kevin and Veronica, who had watched the three-way interaction with avid eyes, took a few moments to respond to the redhead. As Veronica opened her mouth, the doors to the Great Hall – often closed – burst open, and Cheryl Blossom walked in, head up and eyes firmly set at the Slytherin table.

The entire hall fell silent.

Bunny, Ginger, and Tina leapt from their seats and raced to her side, surrounding her and pulling her to sit at the far end of the table and away from the majority of the Slytherins. They protectively formed a circle around her, and then voices rose as people began to speculate more on Cheryl’s mysterious arrest.

In that time, the morning owl post arrived, soft hoots and the rustle of coin purses as students paid the knuts for their subscription to _the Daily Prophet_ and other mail.

“Oh! Oh, yeah,” rambled Kevin shortly before continuing. “She must have just been released this morning. She never came back to the castle last night.”

“Who?” asked Archie, spreading jam across his toast.

“Cheryl,” supplied Veronica, nodding in the girl’s direction. “Kev was just saying she was arrested yesterday. Clearly, there wasn’t much on her if she’s here now.”

“For murdering Jason?” Archie frowned. “That’s bullshit.”

“I agree,” said Betty, turning her friends’ attention towards her. “Cheryl _loved_ Jason. She wouldn’t have killed him.”

“MERLIN!” someone shouted from the Gryffindor table behind them, startling the group. As one, they turned to see a few people clustered around the newspaper. Elsewhere, someone laughed loudly. “Gross! Twincest!”

“What in Merlin’s name...?” Veronica murmured, and she and Betty shared a quick look before turning to watch as students dove for their mail, friends without subscriptions sharing the newspaper and eagerly reading the headline.

An owl landed in front of Betty. Kevin paid the knuts, and with a hoot, it flew off. Betty unrolled the newspaper with shaking hands as Veronica and Archie cleared the table in front of them, shoving their half-finished plates to the side. Once clear, Betty put the newspaper down, face up, and felt the blood drain from her face.

There, in large, bold capitals, the headline for _the Daily Prophet_ read **CHERYL BLOSSOM GUILTY AS SIN!** and underneath, her mother’s name in the byline.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, and the five crowded around the newspaper, reading the article quickly and with dread.

_On July 4 th, 2016, every parent’s worst nightmare happened. Jason Blossom (17) had gone for an early morning trip on a rowboat with his twin sister, Cheryl (also 17) when she dropped her glove in the water of the Black Lake. Jason went in to retrieve it. Our story should end here, dear readers – because Jason Blossom was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team; athletic, strong, and capable. A swim in the Black Lake should have been easy._

_It was not._

_According to his own sister, Cheryl Blossom recounted that her brother drowned. Aurors from the Ministry as well as the local division in Hogsmeade nearly drained the Black Lake in search of Jason Blossom, but were unable to find a body. That is, until September 7 th, this past weekend, when two Hogwarts students discovered Jason’s body washed up on the far shore of the Lake, by Hogwarts._

_And according to the coroner’s report, this reporter can tell you, my devoted readers – Jason Blossom did not drown, like his sister suggested._

_No._

_Jason Blossom was murdered – a victim of the Killing Curse._

_Not only that, but he did_ not _die on July 4 th, as everyone believes. No, according to St. Mungo specialists, Jason Blossom died a week later. During that time, Jason was tortured. This reporter can reveal that he was severely beaten by both fists, leaving vicious bruises all over his body, but also subjected to several rounds of the Cruciatus Curse in addition to the Cutting curse. He was tied up, unable to fight back against his attackers. _

_Who tortured Jason Blossom? What would cause someone to attack a seventh year Hogwarts student?_

_But that’s not all, readers – Jason Blossom’s body was then frozen, petrified for some time before being dumped, and ravaged by animals._

_Yesterday, this story took another turn when Cheryl Blossom was arrested. The charges are not known at this time, but it makes you wonder, readers: Just what dark secrets are the Blossoms hiding? What is going on with the Blossom children? This reporter can connect that Cheryl was arrested from fratricide; but what did Jason do to his sister that would cause the girl to snap? Stay tuned..._

“Merlin, she’s sensationalizing it all,” moaned Betty, leaning forward and burrowing her head in her arms.

Kevin’s eyes were wide. “Your mom didn’t study under Rita Skeeter, did she?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” came Betty’s muffled reply.

“Fuck,” muttered Archie. “Cheryl’s on her way over.”

Betty’s head rose, her eyes meeting Cheryl’s red-rimmed ones as the girl stepped up to the space between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Bunny, Ginger, and Tina flanked her.

Betty rose to her feet slowly, her hands held entreatingly out in front of her. “Cheryl, I am _so_ sorry, I had no idea my mother—”

She didn’t see it happen – it was all too fast. Cheryl’s hand whipped out and swung.

_Crack!_

Betty’s own hands came up in response, cradling against the smarting and red flesh of her cheek from Cheryl’s slap. Her mouth was open in surprise and tears welled in her eyes from the shock and sting.

Her friends sprung to their feet, Veronica coming up to Betty’s side and snarling at Cheryl as she did so, “Sweet Merlin, what’s your problem, Cheryl?”

Archie wrapped his arms around Cheryl and physically pulled her back; it triggered something in the redheaded girl and she began to scream at Archie to let her go. Jughead stepped between Betty and Cheryl, presenting his back to Betty so she didn’t see the enraged teen. But she heard.

“You stupid bitch!” screamed Cheryl, struggling against Archie enough so that Reggie moved from the Gryffindor table, leaping over it to the Hufflepuff side and helping the fellow Quidditch player. “Who do you think you are? Who does your _mother_ think she is? I’m a Blossom, we’re _Blossoms_! We can destroy you! Destroy the fucking _Prophet_. You’re as disgusting as that slut of a sister of yours, Cooper!”

“Ms. Blossom!” McGonagall’s voice cracked across the Hall. It took the combined efforts of Archie and Reggie to pull the sobbing girl out of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn trailing after her. The silent Hall could hear as her screams diminished, and then suddenly it was a roar as the students began gossiping, talking about the article, what Cheryl did, and Betty, as well as her family.

“Oh, Merlin,” whispered Betty, eyes wide. Jughead spun to face her, cupping her good cheek in one hand and searching her face the same way she did to him the day before. Veronica wrapped an arm around her best friend and scowled at all the people staring at them.

“We should get out of here,” whispered Kevin, eyes looking out at the crowd of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, before moving towards the Gryffindors.

“I’ll take her back to the dorm,” offered Veronica to Kevin.

Betty was completely unaware of their whispered plans, instead focusing on trying to not let the tears spill from her eyes. Jughead moved forward and wrapped his other hand around the wrist of her hand that was still pressed against her now red cheek. He took another step forward, and she was nearly enveloped by his presence.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and Betty, eyes on his, nodded. If Jughead said it would be, it would.

Then, Veronica and Kevin, on either side of her, ushered her from the Great Hall. She was numb, unable to hear anything but Cheryl’s vicious words echoing and repeating in her mind without Jughead’s eyes to ground her. Her hands curled into fists on either side of her friends, and she felt the familiar, sharp sting of the nails piercing her skin.

They reached the Hufflepuff dorms in double-time, and unable to go further into the dorm due to the jinx unless he tried the window, Kevin waited in the low, warm sett, Veronica pushing her friend through their dormitory door and then straight to the bathroom.

“But – classes,” protested Betty, once Veronica started plucking at her robe and cardigan, pulling both off eventually and leaving Betty in her button-up, skirt and stockings.

“Not happening,” her friend insisted, leaning across to the tiled shower and turning on the hot water tap. “Strip. Take a warm shower. I’ll wait outside.” She paused, gathering the robe and cardigan, and asked, “Do you want Kev to find Jughead and sneak him in?”

“I—” Betty snapped her mouth shut.

 _I don’t know_ , was on the tip of her mouth. Instead, she said, “I need to owl my mom and ask what she thought she was doing.”

Veronica eyed her. “Do you want some time to yourself?”

Betty hunched a bit. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll be with Kev,” nodded Veronica. “If you need us, call him. We’ll be here so fast, you’ll think we Apparated in.”

“Thanks for understanding, V,” murmured Betty, eyes downcast.

Veronica stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Betty in an awkward hug due to the lumps of robe and cardigan she still had in her arms. “Anytime, B.”

Once Veronica left, Betty striped off the rest of her clothes and stepped into the billowing, steamy shower. The hot water stung her hands, and with a hiss, Betty opened her clenched fists to see the damage.

She had been clenching her fists for as long as she could remember – it was something instinctive now, to help control her spikes of anger and the queasy feelings of anxiety when they rumbled through her. Sometimes, it was a way to deal with her mother and their fights; other times, it was a way to manage the lofty expectations others had of her and the disappointed looks when she eventually failed them. Other times, she clenched her fists tight to ground her – like when Cheryl was grilling her about Polly. The pain was a sharp reminder to keep a cool head.

But now –

Blood ran down her wrists – but only a little, washing away pink. The wounds themselves were old, the scar tissue now thick and harder to pierce – which was why she had numerous crescent indents around her palm. She used to pierce the middle of the fleshy palm, and had migrated over the years to random shallow punctures at the top of her hands, near the knuckles, or deep fists tucked at the base of her thumb.

Eventually she grew waterlogged and wrinkled; she had missed her morning classes for sure but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She wrapped a towel around herself, leaving her blonde hair hanging low and wet down her back, and wandered into the bedroom. Veronica had laid out her pajamas, and left a spare chocolate frog she had on Betty’s bed, with a note on a ripped piece of parchment reading, _take all the time you need. I’ll bunk with Kev tonight if you want – V_.

 _I’m sure it’s just Kev you want to see,_ thought Betty with a slight smirk. She hadn’t missed the way Veronica’s eyes would trail over to Archie recently, but she wouldn’t move on her old crush for some time yet, Betty was sure, especially after the incident at Cheryl’s party.

The sun was high and shining in the very quiet room, providing more than enough light for Betty to sit at her desk and pen a letter to her mother.

 _Mom,_ she began. _I would like to say that I hope this letter finds you well, but the truth is – you caused quite a stir at Hogwarts this morning. Cheryl arrived back at school just before the Owl Post, and with everyone reading your expose, it was mayhem._

_What were you thinking, dragging the Blossoms through the muck? Whatever Jason did to Polly – which I still don’t know because you and Dad won’t tell me anything about her – he was a person. A living, breathing person._

_How about you stick to writing about the real story, instead of attempting to be Rita Skeeter 2.0? Find out who was holding him captive. Learn why he was frozen, petrified, and kept somewhere. Find out who cast an Unforgiveable on him. That matters more than hurting the Blossoms. They’re in enough pain losing their child. What if that was Polly? Or me? Could you imagine the pain you’d feel if they wrote something like that about us? We’re already a laughingstock of Hogsmeade because you’ve moved Polly somewhere and said she had a nervous breakdown (which I don’t believe for one second)._

_Please consider it._

_Love,_

_Betty_

She read over the letter twice, checking for spelling and grammar, and then rolled it and wrapped it securely with twine. Throwing her school robes over her pajamas, she crept out of her dorm room, glancing this way and that. Everyone was in class or at lunch.

Using the secret passageways she, Archie, and Jughead had discovered back in their first and second years, when they remained at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, she snuck up to the owlry, and found the first barn owl she could that was willing to leave. She attached her letter to her mother and with only the barest hit of hesitation, whispered, “go,” and watch the owl beat its large, powerful wings before taking off and flying south to London, where the main headquarters of the Daily Prophet was located.

Betty sighed. _What a mess_ , she thought, hunching down slightly and using the same passages back to the Hufflepuff dorm. She luckily didn’t have Prefect rounds, and doubted Cheryl would want to see her for Saturday cheer practice. Upon returning to her dorm without seeing anyone, she pulled out the textbooks to the classes she missed, and read the chapters she was supposed to read and cover, attempting to stay ahead. She became lost in them, losing track of time.

A tap on her bedroom window finally had her looking up.

Jughead was crouched on the ground, in street clothes. He waved.

Betty stood on her desk chair and unlatched the window, staring at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi there, Juliet,” replied Jughead. “Going to let me in?”

“I feel like I should be in your place with you saying that,” retorted Betty, waving her wand at the window and watching it enlarge. “How did you know which window was mine? Or where the Hufflepuff dorms faced?”

Jughead scoffed, swinging his legs into the room and then dropping lightly on top of her desk before hopping to the floor. “You think I wouldn’t know where my best friend lives for eight months of the year?”

Betty returned the window to its regular size and then latched it shut. She turned back to him, hands on her hips. “Kev showed you, didn’t he?”

Jughead shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked on his heels a bit. “Ummm... maybe.”

Betty grinned. “I’m glad.”

“Your new friend said you might want to be alone tonight, though,” admitted Jughead, watching as she sat on her bed. He then took her desk chair, spinning it to face her.

“Veronica?” asked Betty. She then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess...”

“I can go,” he offered quietly, eyes on her.

Betty shook her head. “No. No – now that you’re here, I want you to stay.”

“Okay,” he readily agreed, leaning back in the chair and splaying his legs out as he relaxed. He watched her as she chewed her lip and shifted on her bed, eyes focused above him and on the far wall, clearly still focused on the events earlier that morning. Betty fiddled with the wet ends of her hair, which was drying with a natural wave. Finally, she huffed.

“She shouldn’t have done it,” she finally burst out.

Jughead eyed her from his chair as Betty stood and began to pace in front of him.

“My mom. It was wrong, to drag the Blossoms into it like that,” she continued, waving her hand about. “I mean, yes, Cheryl is _horrible_ but Jason is _dead_ and _that_ is horrible.”

She spun to him. “You were writing something in the kitchens the other night.”

Jughead slowly sat up straight. “Yes. I was.”

“What was it?”

He shrugged.

Betty sidled closer, peering down at him. “C’mon, Juggie, you can tell me.”

“Are you trying to get me to spill my secrets, Cooper?” asked Jughead, eyes dancing.

Betty twirled a loose curl of her hair and moved another step closer, sinking to the floor next to the chair. She placed an arm on the armrest, peering up at Jughead from under her lashes. She used the same technique on him that she had used on her mother: she made her eyes go impossibly wide and round.

He shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t look away.

“Juggie,” breathed Betty, “What were you writing?”

“Ah... a novel,” he stuttered.

“What about?” she pressed, leaning over the armrest and moving closer to him. A blush spread across his cheeks and nose, and Betty was sure his ear tips were a bright red.

“Um, Jason’s death,” he finally said, eyes caught on hers.

Betty tilted her head to the side, not moving from where she was leaning over the armrest of the chair. She was sure if she took one little step forward, she’d tumble into Jughead’s lap. A part of her wanted to.

“Hogsmeades very own _In Cold Blood_ ,” she quipped.

“Well, it’s more like a series of articles,” said Jughead, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing like a novel just yet.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Betts,” the dark-haired teen said. “What’s this about?” his eyes darted from her face to her perched over the chair, then back up.

“I’m just thinking, Juggie,” began Betty slowly, moving a bit closer. Her arm was off the armrest, and instead both her hands were gripping it as she leaned over Jughead’s seated body.

“Thinking about what?” he breathlessly asked.

“About something... important,” she said, dropping her voice to a low husk.

“Oh?” Jughead’s Adam’s apple prominently bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

Betty nodded. “About the Black and Gold.”

Jughead blinked. His voice returned to normal when he asked, “What?”

“The Black and Gold. Our school newspaper,” elaborated Betty, his voice also returning to normal, if not slightly perky.

“Print journalism, Betty. Other than the _Prophet_ and _Quibbler_ , it’s kind of dead in magical Britain,” replied Jughead with a furrowed brow.

“It’s not dead, Jug,” replied Betty, straightening up and looking down at him. “It’s just dormant. Besides... as a writer, I was hoping you’d write for the Black and Gold. We can start the paper up again, together.”

Jughead flattened his lips. “I just don’t think the school paper’s the right fit for my voice.”

Betty groaned and crossed her arms. She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “Juggie, Jason’s death changed Hogwarts – changed Hogsmeade. People don’t want to admit that, but it’s _true_. We all feel it. Nothing this bad was ever supposed to happen here – especially since things have been peaceful since the War ended, but it did. I want to know why.”

She looked away. “I need to fix my mom’s mistakes.”

Jughead sighed. “Would I get complete freedom?”

Betty’s eyes widened in happiness. “I’ll help! And edit. And suggest. But it’ll be your story, it’s your voice. You’ve already started this, Jug. Let’s finish it. Together.”

He rubbed his hands across his face and tilted his head back in the chair. “Doesn’t sound like complete freedom, but I’m in.”

Betty grinned and reached forward, hauling Jughead out of the chair and throwing her arms around him in a hug. “Okay great! Um, in that case, I have your first assignment.”

“Merlin, already?” he groused, but she could hear the smile in his voice, and felt his arms wrap tight around her in response.

“Yeah,” she replied, tilting her head back to look up at him. His eyes sparkled as he looked down on her.

“I think I know where you’re going with this,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Because there’s one person who was at the Black Lake that July 4th, which no one has really said anything about, something only a few of us know about,” he said.

She grinned. “The fact that Dilton Doiley and the prospective Ravenclaw prefects were leading a ‘Claw retreat that weekend?”

Jughead nodded. “Mmhmm. And the fact that he heard what sounded like a magical battle happen.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” asked Betty.

Jughead pointedly looked at her pajamas.

She sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow then.”

Jughead pulled from her arms. Betty had completed ignored the fact that entire conversation happened in his arms, and missed the heat of his body as soon as he stepped away.

It came sizzling back at his words, accompanied by a roguish grin.

“It’s a date.”

*

_On the Fourth of July, just after dawn, Jason and Cheryl Blossom took a Portkey out to the Black Lake for an early morning boat ride. The next thing we know that happened for sure is that Dilton Doiley, who was leading the Ravenclaws on a House retreat, came upon Cheryl by the river’s edge. Aurors from the Ministry and Hogsmeade drained the Black Lake for Jason’s body, but never found it._

_Guilt, innocence. Good, evil. Life, death. As the shadows around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts deepened, the lines that separated these polar opposites blurred and distorted._

_“I’m guilty,” Cheryl said in Potions. But of what? That was what we were going to find out._

*

TBC...


	6. Dilton Drops it Like it's Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the fact that I rewatched the series and was listening to the theme song of 'Monthly Girls Nozaki-Kun' (Kimi Janakya Dame Mitai by Masayoshi Ōishi) on repeat for the first half of this chapter. I was channelling Chiyo for Betty and her feelings for Jughead, which was only compounded by the numerous YouTube clips I watched in the wake of 1x13 of Lili Reinhart and her kookiness. It kind of came through here with Betty. So, maybe slightly OOC. Whoops!

*

VI: Dilton Drops it Like it’s Hot

*

“How often do you think about why your friends came into your life? Was it random? By design? Or maybe a little of both? Regardless of the reasons, some friends you just know are gonna be by your side for a while. Others, you’re not so sure. And then there’s that one friend who... well, you hope one day becomes something more, but friend will have to do for now. And that’s okay, I guess.”

– Barry Allen, _the Flash_ , “Plastique” (1x05)

*

Jughead decided against remaining that evening with Betty – for whatever reason he had concocted in his head – so Betty enlarged the window again, and _thoroughly_ enjoyed watching Jughead leave her dorm.

He initially perched on her desk, leaning his upper body through the window to hoist himself out onto the grass. However, in doing so, he gave her a fabulous view of his rear, covered by his tight jeans as he wriggled back and forth, shuffling further out of the window.

Betty cocked her head to the side and audibly sighed.

His wriggling form stopped. “Betts?”

“Hmmm?”

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, definitely,” she agreed, eyeing his bum as the jeans pulled tight as he lifted one leg to haul himself flat onto the ground.

He scrambled to pull himself straight up, and once he knelt, peering back into her room, Betty saw that his face was a bright red.

He cleared his throat. “Are you going to be okay, tonight?”

“Yeah,” she replied, slightly pouting. “I’ve slept alone before, Jug.”

“Right,” he muttered. He then peered into the dorm room and gave a tiny flick of two fingers in goodbye, and said, “Remember to latch it shut. Do it.”

She nodded, doing as he requested, and then snapped the latch shut. Once she did, he stood and then his feet were gone, nothing but the low evening light spilling into her rapidly darkening room.

For several moments, Betty stood there, still as a statue.

 _He agreed to help!_ She thought giddily, a wide smile on her face. _He said “it’s a date”! We kissed! We… kissed…_

The smile began to slip from her face as nerves began to well in her stomach. She blinked, once, twice, and then—

Betty dove for her bed, slipping her hands underneath the pillow for her enchanted mirror.

“Kevin Keller!” When he didn’t respond immediately, she called his name again with more force and hysteria. “ _Kevin Keller!_ ”

“Merlin, alright,” his voice said first before his face appeared. “Betty, I thought you’d be busy?”

“Busy?!” she nearly screeched. “Why would I be busy?”

Kevin blinked, and she heard Veronica, outside of the mirror’s view, asked, “Did she just ask why she’d be busy? Has he not gone by yet?”

“Betty,” began Kevin with faux-patience. “Has Jughead been by?”

“Yes, of course, he just left,” rambled Betty, sinking onto her bed.

“Left?” asked Veronica, and then she was shoving at Kevin and both were squished cheek-to-cheek in the mirror. “Why would he leave? I thought you’d want Loverboy to stay with you tonight.”

“That’s just it!” Betty nearly wailed. “I kissed him – I mean, you already knew that—”

Kevin frowned and muttered, “ _I_ didn’t.”

“—but it was only two weeks ago I told Archie I loved him!” Betty was working herself into a frazzled state, her voice growing louder as she continued. She stood and began pacing the space between her bed and Veronica’s. “I mean, people don’t just go around telling one person they love them and then find themselves completely captivated with someone else, right? RIGHT? I mean, that’s weird. And not to mention shallow. Why did I even tell Archie then? What did it matter? What if _Jughead_ thinks I’m playing him?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” broke in Veronica soothingly.

“BUT WE DON’T KNOW THAT,” shouted Betty, eyes wide.

“B,” laughed Veronica, “I’m pretty sure that he’s been crushing on you for years. I think he’s happy to finally just have your attention.”

Betty let out a tiny scream. “But that’s not right! I’ve ignored him for so long and he’s okay with being what could be considered second best?”

“He’s not, though, right?” asked Kevin.

“No, of course not,” snapped Betty, breathing heavily. “But I mean – one night I kiss him and tonight I was just practically all over him—”

“Wait, what?”

“—and what if I’m sending the wrong message? What if _he_ thinks the wrong message?”

Kevin, confused, asked, “What’s the message?”

“THAT’S JUST IT, ISN’T IT?” wailed Betty.

“Okay, that’s enough,” said Veronica sternly. “Clearly there’s something on your mind, so Kev and I are coming back to the dorm tonight.” She sighed and looked around the Gryffindor fifth year room. “You are _so_ lucky that Archie and Reggie were in detention tonight and Moose went to see Dilton in the upper year common room.”

Betty flushed. She had forgotten they were in Kevin’s dorm.

“We’ll be there in twenty, just… try to relax,” admonished Veronica, and then the connection on the mirror cut out and Betty was standing in the middle of their dorm room, blinking at the small compact in her hand.

She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and began chewing on it, still standing in the middle of the room, but her gaze was turned inward.

 _When did I get so comfortable with Jughead to act that way around him?_ she wondered, sunk deep into her memories. Unbidden, her eyes began to close and she thought back to when she last saw him: at the Leaving Feast in June, just before the Hogwarts Express would take them back to London – and then her, Jughead and Archie back up to Hogsmeade with the Floo or side-along with their parents. He sat at the Slytherin table, quickly eating his food and going for seconds and thirds, while she and Archie – sitting back to back as wont to do – with Kevin at Archie’s side, joked about their plans for that first weekend free from school.

They waited for Jughead once the feast was over, and then Kevin left, leaving the three to find their favourite spot out of the grounds: a large tree, near the Black Lake. The three sat underneath and everything was... perfect. Betty had been regaling them of the application she sent in for the New York internship; Archie was complaining about his dad requesting he join him at Andrews Construction (and apparently they already had a job lined up, redoing the wards and building of an old Pureblood estate that had fallen into disrepair after the Second Blood War). Then Jughead was talking about all the films he was going to watch at Twilight.

But she only had eyes for Archie, and Jughead only had eyes for his future plans, and Archie only had eyes for how his summer was going to be.

So when had it changed?

 _When he didn’t reply to my owl for meeting me,_ thought Betty slowly. _I was so focused on the three of us remaining the same – together, best friends – that when Jughead wasn’t there, it jarred me from complacency._

And then Archie only had eyes for Veronica stepping into the Three Broomsticks, and then it was Cheryl’s back-to-school party. Feeling threatened, for the first time ever – since _everyone_ from McGonagall to Jellybean knew that Betty fancied Archie (the sky was blue; there are twenty-four hours in a day; Betty loves Archie) – Betty reacted proactively and got her heart broken from it.

 _Did my heart really break, though?_ She wondered. She lip felt raw from her excessive chewing. _Or did my idea of a perfect couple break? Was I mourning what was already gone, lost this summer?_

In truth, she had barely thought of Archie since returning to school; after the party, Veronica had spent so much time trying to make up to her about her mishap (not that it really was, even Betty could see the way Veronica watched Archie and how his eyes would dart back towards her). Then, she was focusing on her school work, and cheer practice, and –

  _I saw him for the first time,_ she realized with a start, eyes flying open – but still unseeing as she focused on truths.

That wasn’t true – she’d always known and seen Jughead – but not like the way she was looking at him now. Like she needed to know his secrets, like she wanted to take care of him, wrap him in warm, comforting hugs, stand beside him, strong, protective.

Like she wanted to run her hands through his dark hair, trail her fingers down his strong nose and jaw, feel the heat of his arms around her, feel his mouth consume her –

“Hello? Anyone home?”

Betty jerked, nearly stumbling back. Her eyes blinked, and Veronica ceased waving a well-manicured hand in front of her face. Kevin’s head poked in from the window, his overnight bag at his feet.

“V!” Betty gasped. “Sorry – I was... just...”

“Thinking about Jughead Jones?” offered Kevin with a grin. “His dark and brooding nature?”

“Those blue eyes and tight jeans?” supplied Veronica, eagerly jumping on the tease-Betty-Cooper train.

Betty blushed deeply, and, turning, sank on her bed as Veronica bit back a laugh and enlarged the window to let Kevin slip in.

“Yes,” said Betty simply, answering their questions. Both turned in surprise, Kevin having just planted his feet on their floor. They were looking at her with wide eyes. Betty lifted her head and said again, firmly, “Yes. I was thinking about him.”

Kevin whistled.

“So why isn’t he here?” asked Veronica carefully, moving to sit beside her friend while Kevin took the other side, making a Betty sandwich.

The blonde looked down at her hands in her lap, careful to hide the scars on her palms from her friends. She gave a tiny smile and said, “I think I figured out when I started to notice him. And why I spoke to Archie that night. And why... why I want to move forward with Jughead.”

“Well,” said Kevin slowly after a moment. “Spill?”

Betty gave a soft smile to Kevin and turned to Veronica. “I felt threatened by you, V.” At the girl’s open mouth to protest, Betty waved her off and jumped back in, “I understand – no, just wait. _Everyone_ knew that I loved Archie and no one was going to do or say anything. He’d date all these other girls, and it was fine because a few weeks later they’d break up and everything was back to normal. Because that was my life: Archie and Betty and Jughead, with my eyes on Archie.

“This summer changed more than just Hogsmeade and Hogwarts with Jason’s death. I was gone for two months and then Archie and Jughead weren’t speaking, and I wanted things to go back. To be the way they were,” she said quietly. “But we can’t go back. And you changed the dynamic too, when you arrived, telling me to go for it – ‘slay your dragons, Betty Cooper!’ – but if you had never come, I’d never have changed. You helped me grow as a person.”

“Oh, B,” said Veronica, leaning against her friend and wrapping an arm around her. “You didn’t need _me_ to do that.”

“Yeah, I did,” argued Betty. “And I’m glad you did. Because I was so centered into an idea of Archie that I didn’t realize it wasn’t real. And when faced with it – with the idea that it would never happen – it gave me the chance to actually be more than just ‘Betty Cooper – she loves Archie; she’s Ms. Perfect’ which is all people think of when they see me.”

“We don’t see that,” argued Kevin, wrapping his own arm around Betty, too. “No one’s perfect.”

“It always felt like I had to be – and my parents, my mom especially; even the professors here – they all played into this story about the girl next door and her Quidditch captain boyfriend,” whispered Betty.

“But it’s not like that now, right, B?” asked Veronica quietly.

Betty shook her head. “No. Because Archie was pulling away since school started, and I was so busy with classes and cheer practice, and wanting to check on Jughead that something else happened.”

“You realized Jughead Jones was hot?” laughed Kevin, eyes sparkling. “Who could resist him, all teen angst and mystery?”

“Kind of,” laughed Betty, but her smile slipped off her face quickly. “I mucked it up.”

“B, I highly doubt that,” argued Veronica, tilting her head. “That boy is head over heels.”

“Maybe,” the blonde said, “But if that’s the case, I want to do this right.”

“Do this right?” echoed Kevin.

Betty nodded. “He deserves more than thinking he _might_ be second choice. More than a quick kiss thank you or agreeing to help me solve Jason’s murder by enticing him.”

Veronica frowned. “There’s a lot to unpack in that one, B. But let’s break it down – what are you going to do with Jughead and making sure he’s your first choice?”

Betty bit her lip, wincing at the slight sting from over chewing it. “I’m going to pull back a bit. I want to show him I’m interested, but... I need to go slow. Slower. Show him I’m going to take things serious and I want to be serious. No Archie – no sloppy seconds. He deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Kevin was nodding alongside Betty, understanding what she meant from what he knew about Jughead’s childhood. Veronica decided to let that go – maybe one day she’d figure that out.

“And Jason’s murder?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Something isn’t sitting right,” sighed Betty, waving a hand around aimlessly. “Things are weird – like, my sister dated him, and then is gone? No one is telling me where? What if she’s dead too?”

“No, B, no!” Veronica leaned forward. “She’s not. You can’t think like that.”

“But  don’t know, do I?” she asked, lips trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “Jason went missing and then turned up dead – what if Polly is the same?”

“I’ll see what I can find out from my dad, Betty,” offered Kevin. “I’ll go home this weekend and talk to him about the case and see what he knows.”

Betty gave a watery grin to her friend and nodded thankfully.

“We’ll _all_ help,” countered Veronica. “And I know Archie will too, if he can sit still long enough, that is.”

Betty laughed. “Well, Jughead’s going to help. I asked him to start the Black and Gold with me again.”

“Oooh,” cheered Kevin. “Can you start wearing a trench coat? And get him to wear a fedora instead of his beanie? You can be the next Bogey and Bacall.”

“Black and Gold?” asked Veronica, shifting on the bed so her knee came up and she was facing Betty and Kevin.

“Our school newspaper,” answered Kevin, mimicking Veronica’s position. “It was started by Luna Lovegood ages ago, but it doesn’t really last that long unless a ‘Puff is working on it – hardworking and loyal, you know?”

Veronica nodded. “And what will you and Jughead be doing with the Black and Gold?”

“Telling the truth,” replied Betty firmly. “My mom’s article in the _Prophet_ was horrible. That’s not journalism – that’s slander. And it doesn’t help anyone figure out _who_ killed Jason or _why_ they killed him.”

“So why you?” asked Veronica, playing devil’s advocate. “Why do you need to discover this?”

“Because,” said Betty, “If I don’t – who will?”

*

Cheer practice had been placed on hold until Cheryl finished speaking with her family lawyers and Head Auror Keller, but they were set to begin again later that week for their routine for the first Quidditch match less than two weeks from then. Betty knew that Cheryl would put them through the paces, a perfect routine to show that everything was fine (Obviously, things weren’t.).

Despite Jughead saying, “It’s a date” and planning on meeting up that weekend, Betty did not see him until Monday for Literature. She remained in her dorm room, or tracking down Professor Flitwick for help on her Charms/Ancient Runes capstone project – her plan was to make enough mirrors for Veronica, Archie and Jughead, too.

There were silver linings that weekend though: Betty heard from Veronica that Archie and Jughead had met up Saturday night in Hogsmeade, at the annual Taste of Hogsmeade festival, and had made up, friends once more but not necessarily the best of the friends.

Kevin had called her on the mirror and informed her he had news from his father regarding the case, and would share it with her in the Black and Gold office after classes that Monday, having only returned to Hogwarts late Sunday night.

She related that information to Jughead, who was watching her curiously, as she slid into her seat next to him in Literature class before it began. Only the Ravenclaw girls and Frankie were in the room; Dilton, it seemed, was going to be late.

“Yeah?” he frowned. “I wonder what it could be.”

Betty shrugged, toying with a loose thread on her cardigan. “Not sure but he did say it would be helpful.”

Jughead tapped an unsteady rhythm on his desk, eyes looking off to the distance as he thought. He then turned his blue eyes on her, and Betty felt her breath catch. “Well, I have some good news, too.”

“Oh?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. Ever since her confession to Veronica and Kevin (and herself), Betty was almost hyperaware of her old childhood friend. Jughead, on the other hand, had not brought up their kiss the previous week, or the promise of their sleuthing date – in fact, Betty was almost annoyed that he seemed so disengaged.

“I saw Dilton at Taste of Hogsmeade,” he said. “He completely denied anything for the fourth of July.”

Betty frowned. “Well, that’s not good news.”

Jughead smirked. “Well, he _said_ that on Saturday, but I found him leading some Ravenclaws on Sunday for drills.”

In front of them, Frankie stiffened.

“Oh?” asked Betty, eyeing Frankie out of the corner of her eye. Jughead followed her line of sight and slowly nodded. Jughead _mmhmm_ ed and then, quickly leaned over his desk and slammed a hand down on Frankie’s, at his side.

“What the hell, man?” he snapped, jumping in his seat. Cricket and Ethel, at the other table, glanced over curiously. Betty smiled at them – toothily – and nervously, they went back to their discussion, ignoring them. She moved from her seat to sit at the edge of Frankie’s desk, boxing him in while Jughead loomed over him from behind.

Jughead’s eyes bore straight into Frankie. “I saw the way you looked at me, during that crazy ‘Claw training camp Doiley’s leading. You’re hiding something.”

Frankie swallowed heavily, eyes glancing back and forth between Betty at his front, and Jughead at his back. “It’s Doiley. He’s lying.”

“About what?” asked Betty, quietly. It was like she and Jughead were playing good Auror/bad Auror.

“Not hearing anything that day,” whispered Frankie. “There was a loud noise – like a magical battle. It was him. He was demonstrating a bunch of high-level Defense spells.”

Jughead remained sceptical. “Dilton Doiley shot off spells on July 4th? In the summer? When we’re told not to do magic outside of the school year?”

Frankie shrugged. “He said he was going to be _the_ Ravenclaw Prefect. He said that showing he was capable in all his classes meant that Professor Sinistra would pick him over us.”

“And you went along with this?” asked Betty incredulously.

“Well, yeah,” said Frankie. “There’s Dilton and myself and Raj in Ravenclaw. We all had a good chance of being named male Prefect. ‘Sides, he’s a hardcore survivalist. Muggleborn, you know? After reading _Hogwarts: A History_ and learning about everything that happened in the last fifty years here, he was a bit worried. He says if we don’t protect ourselves, no one will.”

Betty and Jughead shared a look above Frankie’s head.

“Thanks for talking to us, Frankie,” said Jughead seriously, leaning further down towards the Ravenclaw. “But you’re not going to share it with Doiley, now, are you?”

Frankie squeaked. “No, no, not at all, Jones.”

“Good,” Jughead straightened up and fell back into his seat, and Betty slid from Frankie’s desk and then back to hers behind the now petrified Ravenclaw, who remained rigid in his seat, not moving his head for fear of Jughead to say something to him.

“I’m going to try to corner Doiley at lunch,” whispered Jughead, leaning towards Betty. She struggled to keep a flush off her cheeks. “Try to get him to meet with us after classes today.”

“Where?” demanded Betty, eyes boring into his. “At the Black and Gold?”

Jughead nodded. “Is that fine? Your last class is Charms right? Seventh period?”

Slightly flattered he knew the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff schedule, Betty mutely nodded. She whispered back to him, “I was going to go straight to the offices put aside for the Black and Gold and get started on the October issue.”

“Fourth floor, just past Transfiguration?” confirmed Jughead, referencing the office location.

“Yes,” she answered.

He leaned closer, just as Professor Adams approached his desk to begin the lesson; apparently, Jughead's cornering of Dilton on Saturday meant he was avoiding the Slytherin wherever he could, to the point of missing class.

Betty shivered as his breath breezed over her. “I’ll see you then.”

The rest of her day went quick – and then she and Kevin were in the bare office of the Black and Gold, Professor Adam’s signature as the sponsoring faculty for the revised newspaper. The rectangular room was dusty, but Betty was sure she could sweet-talk one of the house elves in the castle to help clean it. There were several streaky windows facing the Quidditch pitch, and a few single desks and wooden chairs against a far wall; in the middle of the room was a large conference table without any chairs.

Kevin had found an unused corkboard at his house in Hogsmeade and brought it for Betty to use; she placed by the desks, against the wall with a permanent sticking charm. A single desk, tucked underneath the corkboard, served as a table for their evidence.

Jughead walked in as she and Kevin were sorting loose pieces of parchment on the desk in front of the corkboard.

“Hey!” greeted Betty with a wide smile as her friend walked in, dropping his worn satchel on the floor by the conference table. “Come over here and check this out.”

“Is this our crime wall?” he asked with a sarcastic tinge.

Kevin nodded. “ _Murder board_ , Jughead. We’re trying to copy what my father’s looks like at the house. He’s got all these names and notes stuck on it, tied with red string.” He held up the spool. “You can cut.”

Jughead took the offered spool of red twine, unwinding a bit as his eyes darted around what they had already placed up before he arrived.

A non-moving photograph of Jason’s took the honour spot in the middle of the board. Just above and to the right were twin photos of his parents from a charity event in London, with two pieces of yellowed parchment separately pinned reading _Clifford Blossom_ and _Penelope Blossom_.

Next to Jason’s photo on the left was a picture of the Black Lake, where his body was discovered. In Kevin’s handwriting, he wrote _victim found by K Keller and M Mason_ ; Betty was just about to pin a photo of Cheryl to Jason’s other side and below their parents’ photo. She waved her wand and the photo affixed to where she wanted it, and Kevin added the small scrap of loose parchment that read _Cheryl Blossom_.

“What’s left?” asked Jughead.

Betty pointed her wand at a few loose articles she had cut from _the Daily Prophet_ and then one from _the Quibbler_ – both had very different titles. The _Prophet_ articles asked “Hogsmeade – are we safe?” and screamed “Town Shocked by Murder!” whereas the _Quibbler_ questioned, “Are the Blossoms part of the Rotfang Conspiracy?”

“We’ve also got a map of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts to put up and mark up,” she offered. “Maybe we can see if there is a pattern or something.”

“It’s a start,” he agreed, and then sat on the edge of the conference table, close enough to be part of the discussion but far enough away to see the whole board as it came together.

“Kev, did you want to tell us what your dad knows?” asked Betty after a few minutes of quiet, where she and Kevin continued to put all their loose pieces up on the board until it was over half covered.

Kevin nodded, wiping his hands on his uniform trousers. He stepped back from the board and looked it over. “Right – so the first thing is about Cheryl. She said she was ‘guilty’ but when we all thought it was for killing Jason, it really wasn’t.”

“I think everyone who knew her or Jason could say that,” Jughead rolled his eyes.

Kevin shot him a look and then continued at Betty’s wide-eyed entreat. “Yes, well, apparently she was guilty of convincing him to join her in the boat because he was planning on running away. He got to the other side of the Lake, on the far side of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, where the forest thickens before reaching that Muggle town, several miles to the south-west. That was the last she saw of him.”

Kevin continued, “Cheryl was let go, although warned not to keep important information related to the case to herself. The next bit of interesting news: she said she heard the sound of a battle.”

Jughead narrowed his eyes. “Battles are loud – why didn’t anyone else confirm this?”

Kevin leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice. “That’s the thing – at least one other person _could have_ heard what sounded like a battle.”

 “Dilton Doiley,” said Jughead with a firm nod. “Who is coming by here later to tell us what he saw and heard by the Black Lake.”

“You spoke to him after Literature then?” asked Betty, turning to her friend.

Jughead nodded. “Valdez’s confirmation was all I needed when I cornered him before Potions. I told him to come by here later and tell us what he saw. He agreed.”

“Which was Cheryl Blossom, soaked wet by the edge of the Black Lake,” reminded Kevin, crossing his arms. “Do you think he can collaborate with the potential battle?”

Betty answered for Jughead. “Frankie Valdez was part of the group that summer with Dilton, who said _Dilton_ was the one making the noises of a magical battle.”

Jughead hopped off the table and roved his eyes over their crime board, fixating on the map. He took his wand out of his pocket, and tapped a part of the Black Lake, indicating where Jason’s body was found. He then tapped another part, much further north-west and deeper within the Forbidden Forest. “Doiley was here when he said he found Cheryl, right?”

Betty came to stand next to him, hands on her hips. “Yes.”

“That’s not far from where Cheryl said she last saw Jason,” commented Kevin from Jughead’s other side, staring at the board.

“And there’s a small path from that part of the forest through the Centaur village, which loops around,” chimed in Betty, her voice bright. She turned to Jughead. “This is awesome work, Juggie! Dilton can confirm he was shooting off Defense spells – not that Jason was involved in a high-stakes battle before he disappeared.”

“But he would’ve been kidnapped, either way. Whoever kidnapped him would’ve likely used the sound of Dilton to cover any attacks against Jason, and then use this path to escape, away from Doiley,” added Jughead, tracing his wand tip along the spot from where Dilton and Cheryl were, through the Centaur village. He traced it all the way around until it forked; one path going southwest, sweeping around the far side of the lake through a different forest that buffered a village. The other path –

The three fell silent.

“Hogsmeade,” whispered Kevin hoarsely.

“He could’ve been taken back to Hogsmeade, and we’d never know,” whispered Betty, swallowing heavily.

“No way, Betts,” Jughead was shaking his head. “Where could someone hide _Jason Blossom_ in Hogsmeade? Everyone knows everyone.”

“The other alternative is that they took him around towards the Muggle village,” argued Kevin, his voice rough. “But that means they’d have to know enough to pass as a Muggle.”

“If they stopped there,” sighed Betty. “We have two options now to look into. Either towards the village or back to Hogsmeade.”

Both Jughead and Kevin did not reply, staring contemplatively at the board. Finally, Kevin sighed and shifted where he stood, stretching and popping his back.

“I’ve got a study session with Moose in a bit. I’ll see you at dinner, Nancy Drew,” teased Kevin, shaking his head when he glanced back at the crime board. “If I hear anything else, I’ll pass it on.”

He went to the conference table, where he and Betty had dumped their bags earlier, and picked his up. He paused near the door, turning to face her and Jughead, both who remained in front of the board.

“What’s the name of the town, by the way?” asked Kevin.

Jughead squinted at the map. He read the name off to Kevin, the name sliding off his tongue ominously. “Greendale.”

Kevin’s eyes widened.

“Well, shit,” said Betty, and she then sat hard on the edge of the evidence desk. She brought her hand up and began playing with the end of her ponytail nervously. Jughead turned to look at her in surprise, but before he could speak or talk about the problem that Greendale was, a knock on the open Black and Gold door had Kevin turning to face Dilton Doiley.

The short, mousy boy was nervously wringing his hands, cowering under three different sets of eyes as they turned to look at him. He then stepped in the room.

“I’ll talk to you later,” promised Kevin, and then shut the door behind himself as he left, leaving Dilton with Betty and Jughead.

“Dilton Doiley,” said Jughead, enunciating his name clearly. The Ravenclaw trembled, but moved into the office. Jughead used his foot to kick one of the wooden chairs, with wheels at the end of its legs, out towards him. “Welcome. Take a seat.”

Dilton gingerly sat himself on the edge.

“Listen – Jones, I don’t know what game you’re playing—” he began.

“Game?” Jughead scoffed, crossing his arms. “This isn’t a _game_ , Doiley. A kid is dead. Jason Blossom is _dead_. And imagine my surprise when I find out that you did more than just find Cheryl Blossom by the edge of the Black Lake.”

“We’re looking for the truth, Dilton,” said Betty earnestly, stepping forward and next to Jughead. They were a juxtaposing picture; she in bright Hufflepuff yellow and wide eyes, while Jughead glowered at her side, all dark and cool in Slytherin green. “Jason deserves the truth.”

Dilton shook his head. “If you publish a story saying I shot off NEWT-level Defense spells during summer when we’re not supposed to, my life will be ruined. I’ll get a warning from Hopkirk; I’ll have my Prefect badge stripped; I’ll be banished from the Defense Club. And worst of all, charged with a misdemeanour by the Aurors. It’ll go on my record.”

“Boo-hoo,” snapped Jughead. “We all know not to do magic during the summer months, and here you are flaunting that. And wiping your wand clear after, too! _That’s_ highly illegal.”

Dilton began to sweat. His eyes darted between the two, and he sputtered, “So, what if I have a better story? If I tell you what I know, promise me – me using magic and shooting off NEWT-level spells stays between us.”

Jughead glanced at Betty, who leaned forward in surprise. She caught his eye and minutely nodded.

“You have our word,” she said, just as Jughead added, “As journalists.”

Dilton looked between them again, searching their faces for lies; after all, one _was_ a Slytherin. So, instead, he focused on Betty, the more trustworthy of the two.

“I saw something at the Black Lake, something nobody else saw,” he began cryptically. “I got there using the Knight Bus, because Raj, Frankie and I planned to meet by the Shrieking Shack. But I wasn’t the only one who got off the Bus that afternoon – Professor Grundy did, too. She was standing around for a bit, so I walked down the path towards the Shack. But I went and hid in the bushes off to the side.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Betty incredulously, looking at Jughead for validation. His face however, was blank in a way only Slytherins managed. Startled, she turned back to Dilton.

He shrugged. “It was weird. Why would Grundy be back at Hogwarts during the summer? She doesn’t live here in the castle. And there weren’t any staff meetings in July – the professors wouldn’t be sending anything out until August or making decisions for weeks.”

“So you hid and saw her?” prompted Jughead, a strange inflection in his voice.

“Yeah. She walked right by me, past the Shack and down to the Lake’s edge. She was there, there when I was leading Raj and Frankie,” said Dilton. “But she wasn’t alone.”

“What do you mean, ‘she wasn’t alone’?” asked Betty. “How could you even know that?”

Dilton looked at her as if she was dumb (and maybe, to a Ravenclaw, she was). “Because she had a letter in her hands that she dropped.” He then reached for his bag, swinging it around and digging through it. He pulled out a crumbled, ripped piece and thrust it at Betty.

Jughead took it first before she could. He read it once to himself, slowly, and then looked across the top of the paper at Dilton, who fidgeted.

“Can I go now?” the Ravenclaw whined.

“Get out of here,” agreed Jughead, and with permission, Dilton jolted to his feet and practically ran out of the room.

“Juggie, what was that?” Betty asked, turning to her friend. His eyes were dark as they looked at the parchment, and she could see the tension in his jaw as a muscle jumped. “What’s the letter say?”

Finally, his dark blue eyes caught hers and he read the short note out loud, having already memorized its contents: “The Black Lake. 8am. I’ll bring the food if you bring the Butterbeer.”

“Butterbeer?” Betty wrinkled her nose. “So whoever she met with probably stopped by the Three Broomsticks first to pick up the drinks.” She then paused. “Weren’t you and Archie supposed to be on a trip that day? ... and it never happened?”

Jughead clenched his jaw shut, but didn’t move his eyes from Betty’s.

“Juggie... Jug, please,” said Betty, moving forward. Her voice caught. “Please tell me I’m being silly.”

“... I can’t,” he said finally, and Betty shut her eyes.

*

 _Despite all of our recent troubles, I would’ve done anything to protect Archie. But Dilton Doiley had just opened Pandora’s box, and now, there was nothing I, or anyone, could do to save him_.

*

TBC...


	7. Cooper Gathers the Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I done goofed up. 
> 
> I thought they were 15 - and that Jughead's birthday was his 16th - but Cole Sprouse did an AMA on Reddit and confirmed that he was 16 turning 17. So I went back and edited the earlier chapters to change their ages, and did a few other lines edits and changes. Nothing significant to the story, but some you'll notice if you reread everything. From this chapter onward, they're 16, in their 6th year.

*

VII: Cooper Gathers the Clues

*

 **Mr. Green** : Now there’s one thing I don’t understand.

 **Professor Plum** : _One_ thing?

– _Clue_ (1985)

*

_With Head Auror Keller knocking on every door and neighbor suspecting neighbor, Hogsmeade, every day that passed, was becoming more like Salem during the witch trials, or like the dark days leading up to You-Know-Who’s first run of terror, where even saying his name was Taboo._

_Meanwhile, the girl next door, our friendly neighborhood Hitchcock blonde, Betty Cooper, was wrestling with the knowledge that her best friend, Archie Andrews, was caught up in a forbidden romance._

_And as for me? Well, the Twilight Theatre where I work, my home away from home, a piece of town history, was closing for good, just when we needed a place to escape to the most._

*

Betty sat on the bomb that Jughead had confirmed. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the information, because on one hand – it wasn’t her business what Archie got up to romantically.

But on the other hand, _it was Professor Grundy_.

A _professor_.

Instead, she remained distracted, enough that both Veronica and Kevin called her out on it at lunch (it took some quick thinking to explain she was working through a Polly-related issue). Jughead would send her worried looks from next to her (but she often ignored them; at least he was sitting with his friends again for lunch, and he and Archie seemed to be getting along). Archie, on the other hand, watched her with keen eyes she didn’t quite know what to make of – as he had never really been the brightest wand in the classroom.

But, Betty was mostly stressed and didn’t need excuses to fob her friends off; Cheryl had returned to cheer practice and was riding the Hogwarts Dragons hard for the opening Quidditch match the following weekend. Several Hogsmeade townspeople, journalists, and Ministry workers were going to attend the well-publicized match if only to show wizard Britain that ‘ _no_ , there was _nothing_ to worry about’.

In addition, she had a minor breakthrough on her Charms/Ancient Runes capstone project. She spent quite a few hours during Flitwick’s office hours taking notes and running theories by the small part-Goblin.

And finally, she had the burgeoning Black and Gold newspaper, thinking of a way to write up the latest discovery of Professor Grundy and Dilton Doiley without implicating one, or both, and keeping Archie out of it, too.

By Thursday, she was nearing the end of her ropes, her face pale and bags under her eyes that she attempted to cover up with concealer. Veronica, who knew how often Betty was staying up as well as tossing and turning in the bed, kept a keen on her friend, but wasn’t sure if she could push or not.

“Alright, that’s it, B,” said the raven-haired girl. “We are getting out of this dorm room and going to Hogsmeade.”

“But I’ve got a lot to do,” protested Betty, as Veronica wrestled a pale blue sweater over her friends’ head. It was an odd combination with the Hogwarts standard issue black skirt. “And it’s Thursday.”

“So? Girl, you have been so stressed over everything you need a change of scenery,” argued Veronica. “And I don’t think it really matters that it’s a school night – I heard a few other seventh years talking about skipping out to Hogsmeade tonight, before the weekend rush.”

Betty made a face. “Yeah.... Hogsmeade weekends are usually intense.”

“So? Let’s cut loose,” suggested Veronica, and knowing that Betty had finished the majority of her schoolwork for that week (and some of the next weeks’ already as well), she allowed her friend to draw her from the Hufflepuff dorm and out towards the entrance hall. Both were looking left and right, trying to avoid Filch and the snoopy portraits that reported their movements back to their Head of House.

“Okay,” whispered Veronica, “Most students are going to dinner, so we should sneak out while we’ve got the chance.”

“How?” asked Betty, amused, and watching her new friend trying to navigate the ins and outs of boarding school life. She folded her arms and leaned against the nearby wall, watching as Veronica peeked around a pillar to look into the entrance hall.

“We can disillusion ourselves,” the raven-haired girl suggested, still looking forward as the younger students began to trickle into the Great Hall for dinner.

“We could,” agreed Betty, “but how long will yours last?”

Veronica shrugged. “A few minutes, but that’s enough to get out onto the grounds.”

“And then through the shut gates?”

Veronica’s shoulders slumped. She then turned and planted her hands on her hips to stare hard at her friend. “Well, what’s your suggestion then, B?”

“The secret passage through the Whomping Willow into the Shrieking Shack,” the blonde replied smugly. “The other passages won’t really work until this weekend, because we’d stick out sneaking through Honeydukes.”

“And how did you know about this?” asked Veronica, beaming as she linked her arm with Betty’s, the taller girl steering her through the entrance hall and towards the main doors.

“First year, Christmas,” explained Betty. “Archie, Jug, and I were staying behind to keep Jughead company, and we decided to just explore the castle. We found a bunch of secret passages and shortcuts all over the place, and we’ve been using them ever since.”

“And then she shared it with me,” announced Kevin as he strolled up alongside, clutching at the strap of his side satchel. “And is now sharing it with you. A rite of passage, Ronnie.”

“I’m flattered,” teased Veronica, fluttering her long eyelashes at their other friend.

“Well, where are we off to if not dinner?” asked Kevin cheerfully, following them outside.

Betty tilted her head at the other Hufflepuff. “This one thinks I need to get out and that we should go to Hogsmeade.”

Kevin nodded. “An excellent idea. Three Broomsticks?”

Betty groaned, and Veronica actually squealed in happiness. Outvoted, she led them to the very edge of the Whomping Willow’s flailing branches, eyeing the long limbs.

“Holy Merlin,” whispered Veronica, her eyes wide as she took in the violent sweeps and gestures the wooden structure made.

“Wait for it,” whispered Kevin eagerly, eyes on Betty.

And then the blonde Hufflepuff darted forward, dodging a thick branch that was as wide as her entire body. She tumbled to the mossy ground, rolled – and then darted forward and slammed her hand on a knoll at the base of the tree.

Immediately, the limbs stilled and the tree quieted.

Kevin whooped, and together, he and Veronica walked forward, next to where Betty was crouching. She pushed aside a bit of overgrown grass to reveal a passageway.

Veronica wrinkled her nose. “Must we?”

“It’s the only way in,” said Betty, eyes teasing. “Too afraid, V? It’s nothing a little _tergeo_ can’t handle.”

She then disappeared headfirst down the hole. Kevin shot Veronica grin and then followed his friend, a tiny whoop of glee echoing through as he tumbled. Veronica huffed, stamped her foot and crossed her arms.

 _Hufflepuff my ass,_ she thought, a tiny scowl on her face. Above her, one of the frozen limbs twitched, and startled, she fell to her bum and tucked her legs into the hole, calling, “Wait for me!”

She slid and bumped her way down, the passage an uneven and slightly painful slide, falling onto her hands and knees at the very bottom. Betty and Kevin stood over her, smiles on their faces, smudged with dirt.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, V?” asked Betty, and Veronica thought the girl never looked so at ease, in rumpled clothing, dirt smudges high on her cheek and forehead, and eyes lit with mirth.

“I’ve had much better,” she grumbled, but stood. She held her arms out stiffly. “Are you going to clean my clothes or not?”

“I don’t know,” said Kevin slowly, tapping his chin and eyeing her up and down. “The dirt adds a certain... _je ne sais quoi_ that adds to your quality, Ronnie.”

Veronica’s scowled deepened, and she began muttering as she patted herself down, looking for her wand. “ _Je ne sais quoi_ , right. I’ll show you _je ne sais quoi_ , _branleur_...”

“Betty,” mocked whispered Kevin, his eyes firmly stuck on Veronica, who whipped her wand out. “I think she’s insulting me.”

“Might be, Kev,” Betty bit her lip in reply, and pointed her wand at Veronica, enunciating clearly, “ _tergeo_.”

All the dirt siphoned off the raven-haired girl, who was only still slightly miffed. Betty did the same for Kevin, and then Veronica did it for her, but managed to miss a small streak on her cheek. Feeling slightly vindictive, she didn’t point it out.

They walked through the underground passage – Kevin, being the tallest, having to duck his head – until they entered the lower most level of the Shack. Betty led them, moving up a sturdy set of wooden stairs and then making a sharp left, into a small room with several pieces of broken furniture. A partially boarded up window was her destination.

Betty pushed at two the boards, separating them by moving one up with one hand and the other down with her other. The two rotated on loose screws, the gap between the boards was enough for them to crawl through, and then, they were outside of Hogwarts’ grounds and at the boundary of Hogsmeade.

Slightly chilled, the three bundled closer together, Kevin upturning the lapel of his jacket, and with their heads down, they briskly headed to the Three Broomsticks. Over the course of the years, with the changes to the Hogwarts Charter allowing upper students to visit Hogsmeade every weekend, Madam Rosmerta and the other inhabitants of the magical village grew accustomed to students visiting at all hours and days, ignoring the fact that they were technically not allowed off the grounds Monday through Thursday. As such, it was no surprise that when the three entered, that there were other sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students inside the pub.

Betty recognized most of the seventh year Gryffindors, and a few Ravenclaws, including Wendy Weatherbee, Polly’s best friend, who was sitting with Kim Wong and Trula Twyst.

“Look, there’s Jug!” exclaimed Betty, her inside twisting pleasantly as she spotted the familiar grey beanie bent low over something on the table.

“And he’s got a booth,” commented Kevin. “We’re inviting ourselves to sit with him.”

With that said, the three made their way around the several round tables on the inner part of the pub to the far corner where Jughead sat – in the same booth that he shared with Betty those weeks ago.

His face was startled when Kevin plopped into the booth on the opposite side, shaking the table. “What?”

Veronica quickly slid in next to Kevin with a devious grin sent Betty’s way, leaving her standing awkwardly next to the table, debating whether she should push at Veronica to sit three on one side, or muster up the courage to sit next to her crush.

“Betty?” Jughead looked up in surprise, and then at Veronica and Kevin across from him, both wearing kneazle-who-caught-the-snitch grins on their faces. “What are you guys doing here? And sit down.”

He moved over for her on his side of the booth, and Betty, fighting a blush, did so gingerly. Once she sat, they all removed their coats and settled in.

“We snuck out,” explained Veronica happily, flagging Rosmerta. “Three butterbeers, please! And Dragon Burgers, too!”

The busty barmaid nodded, and floated the three drinks over to their table over the heads of other patrons, and an extra one for Jughead who grabbed it and nodded his thanks.

“What brings you here, Jug?” asked Betty in a kind voice, as he took her bottle and twisted the cap off for her. She ignored Kevin’s wriggling eyebrows.

Jughead, confused but admirably ignoring Betty’s strange friends, scowled deeply, and shoved the flyer in front of him to the middle of the table. “Being broody.”

The three looked at the flyer, Veronica and Betty leaning deeper than Kevin due to where they sat; Betty had to slide closer to Jughead, whom she felt stiffen slightly.

The flyer, a poster for the Twilight Theatre in Hogsmeade, announced its closure one week from that Saturday, coinciding with the first Quidditch match of the season.

“The Twilight closing is just one more nail in the coffin that is Hogsmeade,” snarled Jughead, his cheeks flushed with anger as Veronica, Kevin, and Betty shared a glance. He was working up a steam as he continued, “No, forget Hogsmeade, in the coffin of the American Dream.”

“We live in Britain,” said Kevin. Rosmerta arrived, placing their burgers with side fries on their table. Kevin and Veronica eagerly pulled theirs close, and began adding their condiments and toppings. Betty idly pulled hers in, and slowly began eating the fries. She knew Veronica meant well, and they were skipping dinner at Hogwarts, but she wasn’t as hungry as they were.

Jughead ignored him and continued, stammering in his frustration. “A-As the godfather of indie cinema, Quentin Tarantino, likes to say—”

Kevin groaned, having heard this before. “Please, Merlin, no more Quentin Tarantino references.”

Jughead slammed a hand on the table. “What? I’m pissed. And not just about losing my job. The Twilight Theatre should mean something to us. People should be trying to save it.”

He idly reached to his side, cutting an eye at Betty, reaching for one of her fries.

She was barely paying attention to the conversation. A part of her was incredibly nervous being next to her friend and crush, but another part of her was thinking, _can I sneak off to talk to Wendy for a few minutes?_

Veronica reached forward and placed a placating hand on the table, facing Jughead with concerned eyes. “In this age of Netflix and VOD, do people really want to watch movies in theatres anymore? I mean, who even goes there? Especially since the Ministry has eased restrictions on enchanting Muggle items. I mean, it was only five years ago that they discovered that electronics and magic _can_ mix. We’ve seen an increase in enchanted Muggle appliances since.”

Kevin swallowed a bite of his burger and offered, seriously, “People who want to buy illegal potions.”

Jughead glared at him. “And cinephiles, and Muggle enthusiasts. Right, Betts?”

Betty, snapped out of her thoughts, blinked. Everyone was looking at her, especially Jughead, who had a frustrated pout on his face. “Totally.”

He frowned a bit at her, reaching for Betty’s fries again. She pushed the plate towards him and he quirked an eyebrow, silently asking, _are you sure?_

In response, she took a bite out of her burger, chewing it and swallowing; she put it down and pushed the plate to him.

Jughead took a bite of Betty’s burger, made a face, swallowed, and took the bun off. He reached for the ketchup bottle on the table, added two or three shakes, and then replaced the bun. He took another bite, hummed appreciatively, and then pushed the plate back to her.

Kevin and Veronica watched with wide eyes at the interaction. Betty, used to this, propped her head up by using her hand as a cradle rest for her chin. She took a smaller bite of her burger and nibbled.

Jughead sighed, finally running out of steam. “Anyway, it’s closing because the town council _owns_ it, but didn’t _invest_ in it. So when an anonymous buyer made Mayor McCoy an offer, she couldn’t refuse—”

 “Anonymous buyer?” broke in Veronica, a strange tone to her voice – but whether it was regarding Jughead’s actions or something else, Betty couldn’t tell. Her voice held a tiny scoff. “What do they have to hide? No one cares.”

 “I do!” interjected Jughead angrily, nudging the plate again to push it against Betty’s hand, resting on the tabletop. “Also, you guys should all come to closing night. I’m thinking _American Graffiti_ – or is that too obvious?”

Veronica perked up in her seat. “I vote for anything starring Audrey Hepburn, or Cate Blanchett.”

Betty’s eyes were focused on Wendy, who was in a hushed conversation with Kim and Trula, one that had all three girls’ leaning in close and glancing around the pub with wary eyes.  _Are they talking about Polly?_

“Or _The Talented Mr. Ripley_ ,” suggested Kevin with a sly look in his eye as he turned to Veronica and a smile on his face with a confident nod. He then turned to Betty and pointed at her. “Betty, your choices?”

When she didn’t react, Veronica leaned forward and touched her hand on the table. “Everything okay, B?”

Betty startled, turning back to face her friends. Kevin and Veronica were looking at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just thinking,” she turned her eyes skyward in thought, a small smile beginning to stretch her lips as it came to her. “Um... maybe _Rebel Without a Cause_?”

She glanced out the corner of her eye to Jughead next to her, leaning forward on crossed arms on the tabletop. He turned his head back to face her, chin tilted down. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth was in a firm, but tight little smile – one that was pleasant and honest and nowhere near his usual sarcastic smirk – and she could tell right that second, he fully appreciated her suggestion. That he fully appreciated the fact that she _knew_ him and knew his interest in Muggle film classics.

They both gave tiny little laughs, and her heart started pounding heavily in her chest, still caught in his gaze.

They turned away from each other at the same time, him looking down at the table, and her to her butterbeer. Across, Kevin and Veronica were nudging each other and looking in Betty’s direction.

 _Stop it,_ she mouthed, catching their eyes. Veronica snorted and Kevin aborted a giggle. Betty sighed and turned to Jughead, asking, “Did you want to finish my burger, Jug?”

“Only after you have another bite or two,” he said, glancing down at the barely touched burger. Most of the fries were gone, but that was because he had been eating them angrily during their discussion.

“Fine,” she sighed, taking another bite.

Across, Kevin and Veronica were finishing their meal, Kevin wiping his fingers on his napkin when the bell above the door for the Three Broomsticks rang, and he commented, “Now, _that’s_ an odd combo of people.”

Confused, Betty and Jughead turned and Veronica leaned to the outside of the booth to see what he meant. Archie was walking in with his father, Fred Andrews, and Professor Grundy, who looked very ill at ease and glanced around the pub, eyes falling on the many Hogwarts students.

Betty’s mouth dropped open. She thought back to Dilton’s confession, and her own dilemma of helping Archie out without compromising him – but she needed to know first.

She turned back to face her friends and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“Betty, _no_. Don’t!” protested Jughead, reaching forward to grab onto her arm. His fingers trailed her back, but she slipped out of the booth before he could stop her. “Shit.”

Veronica and Kevin shared a confused glance, and then looked back over their shoulders at the three, Betty approaching them at their table.

“Wait – what’s happening?” asked Kevin, and Veronica frowned.

Betty stood beside their booth, closer to the front windows. Fred and Archie sat side-by-side with Professor Grundy opposite them. Fred greeted her first. “Hey, Betty.”

Betty, always polite, turned up the _lumos_ on her smile and beamed at him. “Hi, Mr. Andrews, Professor Grundy.” She turned all her attention on her redheaded friend.  
"Archie, can I talk to you?”

He shifted awkwardly in the booth. “Sure. I’ll Floo you later if you’re at home? Or I’ll drop by the Hufflepuff dorm?”

 “No. Actually, now,” said Betty, a firm tone overtaking her friendly voice. Her eyes hardened and focused on him with laser intensity. At Professor Grundy’s and Fred’s look, she elaborated, “Just school stuff. Outside?”

He gulped, but slid out of the booth and followed Betty out the front door, where they stood in the autumn chill, several feet away from the building. No one was outside, all enjoying warm butterbeers or Odgen’s Firewhiskey instead in the Three Broomsticks or Aberforth Dumbledore’s pub further down the dodgy end of Hogsmeade.

Night had crept over Hogsmeade while Betty was inside with her friends, and now she and Archie stood just on the edge of the outdoor lights’ range.

She folded her arms and wrapped them around her, desperately trying to come across as concerned, authoritative, and less freezing, in her blue sweater.

“Archie, as your best friend, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Panic swept across his face for a moment, and then he settled. “I don’t think so.”

 _Gryffindors are terrible liars,_ thought Betty, and she sighed. “Professor Grundy was at the Black Lake on July 4th. Were you with her?”

Archie’s jaw dropped. His voice was angry and annoyed when he spoke, but mainly resigned, like he knew it would eventually come out. “Did Jughead tell you?”

Startled, Betty took a step back and dropped her arms. Hurt blossomed. “Jughead knows about this?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Archie said, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“So, it’s platonic?” asked Betty, hoping Dilton was wrong and so were her assumptions.

He grimaced, and the words exploded out, panicked. “Okay, well, maybe it’s a _little_ like what you’re thinking—”

“ _Archie_ ,” Betty cried softly. “Are you and Professor Grundy, like, _together_? _Romantically_?”

Before he could say anything, another voice broke into their conversation.

“Oh, my God. You and your Muggle Studies teacher are having an affair?”

They turned and saw Veronica stepping forward, Betty’s coat in her hands. She handed it to her friend, Betty pulling it on to ward off the chill. Veronica’s eyes were wide and sparkling with gossip and intrigue.

Archie swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“We are...” he trailed off, looking for the right word and beginning to fidget. “... _together_. Look, I know that sounds bad, but—”

“—Bad?” Veronica gave a tiny sarcastic laugh. “It sounds scandalous.”

Betty’s eyes were wide and entreating when she looked up at Archie. _Do you not realize what she’s doing to you, Arch? What she’s done?_

“It sounds like jail time to me. Illegal!”

Archie’s voice changed to a low warning. “Betty, don’t go there.”

Used to her childhood friend, she took a step closer, pitching her own voice to match his. “Oh, I’m already there.”

Immediately, Archie turned to Veronica. “Ronnie, a little help, here?”

The other girls’ mouth dropped open and she looked back and forth between the two bickering best friends. It was hard to believe that barely two weeks ago, Betty was confessing her love to Archie, and now they were snapping back and forth at one another.

“Uh, I-I mean – I mean, technically, Betty’s right...” Veronica trailed off. She frowned. Her eyes kept darting between Archie and Betty, slightly enjoying the tension. “And ethically – well... what is Grundy to you, anyway...?”

Veronica paused and then offered, “Your _girlfriend_?”

Archie gave a tiny shrug and made a noise that indicated he didn’t like that word.

Veronica sighed, a gleam in her eyes as she offered her next suggestion, going quiet, “Your booty tutor?”

Archie gave her a tiny, dirty look and then exploded, “I don’t know, I don’t know what to call her.”

Betty, having been quiet during the conversation between Veronica and Archie, finally spoke. Her arms were crossed again, her mind was whirling through thoughts too fast for her to focus on many – but a few stood out, and she voiced them.

“You said you were at the lake alone,” she said quietly, tears beginning to pool. She blinked quickly to avoid crying. “You lied to Auror Keller, to all of us. Why? To protect her?”

Archie turned to her, arms out as he entreated her to listen to him. “Merlin, no. Betty – she believed in me when no one else did.”

 _What?_ thought Betty. _Believed in him? What have I been doing all my life then, Archie Andrews? Merlin._

The thought twisted across her face, and Veronica, sensing her about to snap – especially given how stressed she’d been that week – interjected. “Okay, we get it.”

The three fell into silence.

Archie whispered, “Betty, say something. _Please_.”

She shook her head a little, frowning.

“Elizabeth!”

Betty’s head jerked up, and the three turned to face the sound. Her mother, dressed in her work robes, strode down the main street, eyes intent upon her daughter.

“What are you doing out of Hogwarts, Betty?” she demanded, closing in on her daughter quickly. Her eyes looked over the two others with disdain, lips flattening. “Come here. We’re disapparating home. Now.”

Betty moved towards her mother, until they were standing side-by-side. Alice reached forward and tightly gripped Betty’s arm and asked, “What have I told you about those two?”

Betty sighed. “Can we just go?”

Alice pursed her lips, ready to speak more, but with a glare at Archie and Veronica, turned on her heel and the two disappeared with a loud _pop_ that echoed down the quiet street.

*

Betty spent the evening in her childhood room, and mused that she spent more time at home since Jason’s body was discovered than in her dorm room at Hogwarts. While there, she dug out her old diary, and filled it up to date with events that happened since school began: her confession to Archie, Jason’s body, the fight in the upper year common room, her growing feelings for Jughead.

She then wrote,  
_Dear Diary,  
Head Auror Keller doesn’t know what I know, that Hogwart’s Muggle Studies professor, Geraldine Grundy, was at the Black Lake the morning Jason Blossom went missing, and that since Archie was also there, they could have been there together_.

Unsure of what else to write, she bit her lip and closed the book, sliding it back at the bottom of her sweater drawer. Truthfully, she felt a little unsure about many things in her life. But, something had to be done about Professor Grundy – that she knew. She rooted around her vanity desk for spare parchment, left behind before school began, and started to scrap her ballpoint pen across it (quills were very outdated).

She needed a plan; something to show Archie that Professor Grundy wasn’t who she said she was. Finding out about her was a priority, and if she needed to, she would ask Veronica for help. Information on her would be available through the _Prophet_ , but if necessary, she could always ask Kevin to dig a little through his father’s contacts.

With a plan in mind, she went to work first thing the next morning, leaving the Cooper residence early – and because she didn’t want to incite Cheryl’s wrath by missing a practice. Her morning went like this:

**Step One: Professor Grundy**

After practice, Betty found Professor Grundy in the Muggle Studies class. By doing some careful comparisons with the third and fourth years, and her own knowledge of the upper year schedule, Betty was able to determine that no one had Muggle Studies first thing in the morning, leaving it the best time to ~~interrogate~~ _question_ Professor Grundy.

She knocked on the door, a wide smile on her face. Professor Grundy was by herself in the room, light spilling in from the windows. Outside, she had a view of an inner courtyard.

“Betty?” the young teacher asked, looking up at the knock. She was sitting at her desk, grading papers. “Can I help you?”

Betty stepped into the room. “Hi, Professor Grundy. I’m actually writing a paper for the Black and Gold – profiles on our professors. I wanted to start with you as one of our newest faculty members. Can I interview you? Is now a good time?”

“Oh!” the young woman was flustered, eyes darting back and forth around her office. She pushed up her glasses with a finger. “That’s – that’s very flattering. Thank you, Betty. Um, yes. Now is fine.”

Betty stepped further into the room, and sat opposite Professor Grundy’s desk, crossing her leg and pulling out her pad of paper and a Dicta-quill. “Do you mind if I record the conversation? It makes it easier to review my notes for later when I write up the article.”

“That’s fine,” said Professor Grundy, and Betty vaguely eyed how she folded her hands on the desk top, deliberately, and firmly, like she was stopping herself from fidgeting – because sometimes, Betty would do that too, to stop from digging her nails into her palms.

Betty tapped her wand against the quill; it shot up straight, quivering and ready to record. Betty smiled, pleased it worked. She cleared her throat, “Thank you for taking the time, Professor Grundy. Like I said, the Black and Gold is doing a series of articles spotlighting teachers, and you’re our first. Let’s begin.”

She gave her most disarming smile at the teacher. “Uh, you joined the faculty last year. Where did you move to Hogsmeade from?”

The professor shifted in her seat. “Um, here and there. I was just mostly on the road.”

“But you’ve taught at other schools, I’m assuming?” Betty frowned, confused.

Professor Grundy tittered. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“Yeah!” agreed Betty, trying to be encouraging, but the conversation was awkward and loaded with heavy pauses.

 _This woman does_ not _want to give anything away,_ she thought darkly. _What in Merlin’s name is she hiding? It has to be more than just taking advantage of students._

“Yeah,” echoed Professor Grundy.

Betty nodded slowly. “Right.... Um. Can I get their names?”

Professor Grundy started.

“Oh! Yes,” she laughed again, shaking her head. “Sorry; Galway Institute of Magic, Centreville High School in America.”

“What made you leave?” asked Betty, glancing at her paper and quill, which was dutifully recording the conversation, including their pauses.

“They were temporary placements,” explained Professor Grundy. “Just filling in for maternity, sabbatical, things like that. This is my first permanent position.”

Betty nodded. “Right, I see. Getting back to your subject of study – Muggle Studies –, you’re working with Archie Andrews on an independent study – a cultural exchange to understand the Muggle world better through, um, hands on experience. Have you ever done this sort of thing before?”

She nodded, crossing her own legs and lacing her fingers together across her knee.  “Yes, last year.”

Betty frowned again, looking off to the side of the classroom awkwardly and wondering how she could get Professor Grundy to elaborate. “Oh?”

She understood what Betty needed, and leaned forward to speak. “With Tomoko Yoshido and Jason Blossom.”

Betty started. “Jason?”

“Yes, before...”

“Before,” Betty trailed off, thinking back ot conversations she had with Polly. _Did she ever mention Jason taking Muggle Studies?_

“Such a tragedy,” sighed Professor Grundy. “He was an inspiration.”

Betty, sensing a moment, tried to test her luck, by leaning forward and pitching her voice. “And pretty cute, right?”

Professor Grundy was visibly startled, but also confused as she pinched her eyebrows together, and warily eyed Betty.

“I don’t think of my students that way,” she said slowly, firmly.

Betty mock-gasped in shock, leaning backwards quickly. “No, no, no, no – I didn’t mean –”

“I’m sorry, I really should prepare for my next class,” the professor said, standing and looking down at Betty from the edge of her nose.

Betty felt about two inches tall, but she had some information to begin. She stood and gave a tight-lipped smile to the professor, thankful she never took Muggle Studies _ever_ at Hogwarts. “Thanks again, Professor Grundy.”

She left.

 

**Step Two: Research**

Tomoko Yoshido was a fourth year Gryffindor and a chaser on Archie’s Quidditch team. Betty knew the team had practice that late afternoon (as she had heard many of them groaning about not being able to visit Hogsmeade that night – _thanks_ Andrews), and so she decided to ambush the girl outside the women’s locker and change rooms.

Nancy Woods just gave Betty a strange look as she left the change room later that afternoon. The blonde was leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed. Her face held a scowl, and she was sure she was scaring the younger years that had come to watch the last practice before the match next weekend.

Tomoko eventually emerged, long black hair damp from the shower she took with her broom slung over her shoulder, only to abruptly stop when she spotted Betty.

“Betty,” she said slowly. “Hi.”

“Tomoko,” said Betty with a smile on her face, pushing off from the side of the change room. “Do you have a minute?”

“I have homework to do,” the younger girl said, trying to inch around her.

“It won’t take long. I’ll walk with you back up to the Gryffindor tower, anyway,” offered Betty with the same cheerful tone she used earlier.

Tomoko frowned, but had no good reason to say no. She nodded, and Betty fell into step next to her. Nerves shot through her – but a good kind, not like when her anxiety played up – and Betty felt breathless and eager to discover the truth of Professor Grundy.

  _I wonder if this was how Jug felt when he ‘shook down’ Dilton,_ she thought with a grin.

Tomoko was looking at her strangely. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m doing a fluff piece on the professors for the Black and Gold – I’ve started it up again – and my first faculty interview was with Professor Grundy,” explained Betty easily.

Tomoko began to relax.

No one ever suspected the Hufflepuffs.

“She said you did an independent study with her last year,” continued Betty. “That would’ve been your third. How did it go? What did you do?”

“Oh,” said Tomoko quietly. “Yeah, I signed up for Muggle Studies as an elective. I’m Muggleborn, but I wanted to know how wizards viewed Muggles, especially after the Wars. Professor Grundy found out about my heritage and suggested that I drop the course but take an independent study with her instead. That way I could focus on what I wanted to learn. Otherwise, the material was too easy.”

“Too easy?” repeated Betty. “I thought they upgraded it after the War?”

Tomoko nodded. “They did, but Professor Grundy made changes again. It’s still not at all updated. Anyone growing up in the Muggle world could pass it ridiculously quick.”

Betty frowned. “Is Professor Grundy not a Muggleborn then?”

“Halfblood at best guess,” answered Tomoko with a shrug as they entered the entrance hall. “Maybe a Pureblood.”

“She mentioned that Jason was taking an independent study with her last year, too,” said Betty slowly. “Did you ever see him?”

Tomoko frowned, thinking. “Maybe once or twice, in passing, but I was never in the room with them when they had their meetings.”

Betty frowned herself, following Tomoko up the moving staircases towards the familiar Gryffindor tower. “It’s interesting that she’s connected to Jason, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” echoed Tomoko carefully, turning to look at Betty. “Are you trying to ask me something, Betty?”

She grimaced and tried to think of what to say next. “Professor Grundy is new at Hogwarts, and then not even six months later, a student she had a lot of private time with, dies. No matter what – even in the most innocent of situations—” Betty inwardly gagged saying that “—it looks strange.”

Tomoko nodded slowly. “I guess,” she sighed. “Anyway, the only thing I ever saw that was a bit strange, was that Jason started taking a lot more time with her towards the end of the school year.”

“What do you mean?” they were outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, but it was empty.

“I mean, I had Tuesday afternoons scheduled with Professor Grundy, and by the end of the year, she was cancelling those and meeting with Jason,” answered Tomoko, turning to bang on the portrait.

Betty, stunned, blinked. The portrait opened and Tomoko climbed in, turning to look at Betty one last time.

“I guess he really needed her help with something by the end of the school year,” said Tomoko with a shrug. “But I don’t know what it was. I hope that helps.”

“Yeah, it does,” replied Betty mechanically, before she turned and ran down to the fourth floor and the Black and Gold offices. She burst into the room, noting it was empty, and went straight to the murder board. She found a scrap piece of parchment and wrote _Professor Grundy_ on it, and then tacked it up, near Jason’s picture. She used her wand to sever the red string from the spool, and wrapped one end around his picture’s tack, and then traced it to Grundy. She then wrote, underneath the Professor’s name: _Independent study together. Spent more time together by end of year. Why?_

She looked over the board a little longer, noting that Jughead had added the information Dilton provided them earlier with his chicken scratch writing. Betty took another piece of string and connected Jughead’s notes to Professor Grundy’s name and then tied another piece to the location where Jason’s body was found.

There was more and more pointing towards her, and Archie was tied up with the woman.

Betty swallowed heavily, and turned on her heel to leave the room. Next on her list was Kevin.

 

**Step Three: Background Checks**

“I still think this is insane,” said Kevin, when she met with him in her dorm room later that evening. Veronica was out, off somewhere else, and it felt strange for the first time in a long while to be without the other girl.

“Things are getting weirder around her,” protested Betty. “And I think she might be connected to Jason’s death.”

Kevin gave Betty a look – one that read _you’re not fooling me_ – but he handed over the folder he had in his hand to her, and then sat on her bed.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.

Betty flipped open the folder, and absently said, “This is great, your dad really came through here.”

“Well, he was already looking into people and my question prompted him to look into her, too,” answered Kevin. “C’mon, Agatha Christie, spill.”

Betty sighed, sitting next to Kevin and beginning to spread out the parchment and newspaper clippings Auror Keller passed along to his son. “Should your father even be giving us this?”

Kevin shrugged, picking one clipping up to read. “Probably not, but I think he’s so stuck in the case right now, he’s taking whatever help he can find. Mayor McCoy is really riding his ass because the Blossoms are riding hers. The Ministry doesn’t really care or want to get involved more because everything happened on Hogwarts grounds – not down in London, you know?”

Betty ground her teeth together. “So your dad isn’t getting the help he needs.”

Kevin hummed in agreement, and then gasped. “Betty, _look at this_.”

Betty turned on the bed and took the offered clipping Kevin was looking at. “Geraldine Grundy is _dead_? Then who the hell is teaching Muggle Studies here?”

“Headmistress McGonagall is gonna have a fit!” cried Kevin, eyes skimming the words and looking at the photo of the older woman with a long face and her white hair in the bun.

“Geraldine Grundy died seven years ago,” read Betty, putting down the newspaper clipping and turning to the other information Auror Keller had collected. “Look – she has OWL and NEWT scores, but they’re transferred, she’s not British. She wasn’t educated here at Hogwarts.”

“And, this teaching license?” Kevin pointed it out. “Dad’s note says the license number is fake.”

Betty began rapidly flipping through the loose parchment. “Her _Daily Prophet_ and _Quibbler_ subscriptions were taken out only a week before she started here last year.”

She and Kevin shared a look.

 “Who the hell is Geraldine Grundy?” asked Kevin quietly.

*

TBC...

 


	8. the Going Gets Grundy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise - this one just went on and on. It's.... long. Like, really long.

*

VIII: the Going Gets Grundy

*

Truth enlightens the mind, but won’t always bring happiness to your heart.

– _Star Wars: the Clone Wars_ (2008), 1x16, “The Hidden Enemy”

*

Betty cornered Archie Friday night, after Kevin snuck her into the Gryffindor dorm and then up into the boy’s sixth year dorm. The second she stepped in, she was overwhelmed with the scent of unwashed male, dirty socks, and something else she didn’t want to imagine.

“Merlin, Kev!” she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “How do you even _live_?”

“Barely,” he quipped, shooting a look at Moose’s bed, covered with dirty clothes.

“Betty!” yelped Archie, coming out of their bathroom, a towel slung low on his waist. Reggie, behind him, eyed Betty and strutted out and around Archie, over to his bed. He whipped off his towel and flung it behind him, in Betty’s direction.

“ARGH!” her hands shot up to her face and she covered her eyes. “A little warning next time, Reggie!”

“Hey, Princess,” the taller Gryffindor laughed. “ _You_ came waltzing into _my_ dorm. I don’t have to give you any warnings. ‘Sides, all the girls want Mantle the Magnificent.”

 _Please, please, please tell me that he hasn’t named his... that,_ thought Betty furiously, her eyes firmly closed.

“C’mon, Reggie,” moaned Archie, shooting him a nasty look and then turned to Betty. “And Betty – Jesus, you shouldn’t even be in here.” He looked at Kevin, who stared back unrepentantly. “What the hell, Kev?”

“Betty would like to speak to you, Archie,” said Kevin in a clear, solid voice that brooked no argument. “And as such, I will be asking Reggie to join me in the common room, watching as Moose tries to ask Midge out to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

“Oh, hells yes,” said Reggie, and Betty could hear the rustle of fabric as he got dressed. “I am always down to see that hot mess happen.”

“And with that, I’m out,” said Kevin, and Betty felt his hand squeeze her shoulder. “You can look now, Betty.”

She dropped her hands from her flaming face, looking literally everywhere but at Archie, who, face also red, was wearing pajama bottoms. He hastily began picking up his clothing from the floor and shoving others – like socks and boxers – under the bed.

“What brings you here, Betty?” he asked nervously, glancing around the room. He cleared a spot on his bed.

She shook her head and moved to sit on Kevin’s instead, the only clean one in the four-person dorm. She really didn’t want to know what was on Archie’s sheets.

“Do the elves not clean the Gryffindor dorm?” she asked with a wrinkled nose.

“Once a week,” he muttered, blush spreading across his neck. “Professor Longbottom said it would help us build character to keep it clean.”

“Right,” she sighed. She folded her hands in her lap and said, “Look. I know... I know this might be hard to hear, but you need to know that Professor Grundy showed up in Hogsmeade a year ago, out of thin air. There’s no record of her before that. Her newspaper subscriptions, her teaching license, they were all created one year ago. Before that, she’s a ghost. She doesn’t exist.”

“What?” asked Archie, sinking down on his bed – opposite to Kevin’s in the circular dorm – to stare at her.

Betty bit her lip. “The only Geraldine Grundy I could find was a woman who died seven years ago.”

She waved her wand, and the disillusioned folder that Kevin’s father had passed on to them appeared next to her. She passed it to Archie, who began looking through the newspaper clippings and information.

“How—” he broke off, looking up at her. “Where did you find all this?”

Betty winced. “Kevin’s dad.”

“Betty,” moaned Archie, putting the folder down and running his hands through his hair. “You asked the Head Auror for information on Geraldine? Merlin. Was this before or after you interviewed her for a fake article? Why are you doing this, Betty?”

“Because I’m _worried_ for you!” she burst out, ignoring what he said earlier about Auror Keller.

“I’m not in any danger,” argued Archie, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t know that,” protested Betty, slowly standing from the bed.

“Yeah, I do, I’m with her,” said Archie, also standing so they were facing each other. His voice was strong, unwavering. “I know what we have, and you don’t.”

Betty pressed her lips together and then threw, angrily, “She taught Jason Blossom. Did you know that?”

“She’s taught a lot of people, Betty. What’s your point?” Archie frowned.

“My point is, you don’t know anything about her, Archie! Doesn’t that worry you?”

Archie frowned, deeply. His voice dropped low, like it had earlier the other night. “Betty, let this go.”

Betty stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “Archie, please—”

“—If you’re really my friend, you’ll let this go,” her oldest childhood friend said quietly.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t beg or plead – he asked. And like usual, when Archie asked for something, a part of Betty crumbled. She bit her lip and nodded slowly, bringing her hands behind her contritely. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m done. I’ll stop digging.”

He eyed her, folding his arms across his chest. “Promise?”

She nodded miserably. “Pinky promise.”

 _Please forgive me, Archie. I hope you never find out I’m totally crossing my fingers behind my back right now_ , she thought.

He was silent a bit longer, and then sighed. “Merlin, Betty. When did everything go so wrong?”

Betty sighed as well. “The day Jason disappeared, I guess.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I’ll leave now. I’ll see you at the Twilight tomorrow?”

“The Twilight?” asked Archie. He shifted a bit and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not really feeling like going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I’ll probably stay in and get some work done on our game play for the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw next week.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said quietly. “I know Jug wanted everyone there... but that’s okay. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Archie winced, and Betty knew it was a low blow, but he deserved it.

She picked up the folder, disillusioned it again with a tap of her wand, and left the dorm room, only to find Kevin standing at the bottom of the stairs of the boy’s dormitory, avidly watching a one-person screaming match between Midge - a petite, slender fellow sixth year with a pixie cut - and Moose.

“What’s going on?” she asked, taking in the crowded common room, the bright red curtains and warmth from the large fireplace, and the mass of red and gold covered students perched on couches. Near the portrait entrance, she saw the common room notice board, and spotted the flyer Jughead had begun posting around the school, boldly declaring ‘save the Twilight!’ in black font.

“Reggie let it slip that Moose was with me, _that_ night,” said Kevin. “And when she asked what her on-again/off-again boyfriend and I were up to, he couldn’t give a straight answer. This is the result.”

Betty sighed. “C’mon, Kev. You don’t need to be here to know what’ll happen next.”

“Too true,” he said, with a sigh of his own. “Honestly, Moose is hot, but he’s got more demons than _The Exorcist_. I get that we are all on the spectrum, but my gay-o-meter says he should stick with what he know best: girls.”

Betty gave a sympathetic look over her shoulder as she and Kevin left the common room through the portrait entrance. Midge had her wand out and was hurtling hexes at the larger Quidditch player, and he was ducking. “ _I_ say he’s not even doing too well there, either.”

“Did you get done what you needed with Archie?” asked Kevin as they walked down towards the Hufflepuff dorms.

Betty shook her head. “He didn’t want to hear it.”

“About Professor Grundy?”

Betty paused.

“I can read, Betty,” said Kevin lightly. “And while I don’t know exactly what tie there is between her and Archie – I can make a few guesses, and none of them are good.”

Betty stiffened and her shoulders began to creep up to her ears. Her hands began to curl into her palms. They were in the middle of the silent and empty entrance hall, curfew only a few hours away.

“Hey,” said Kevin, using the same light tone. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything. _I’m_ not going to say anything. But if you need me, I’m here.”

“I – thanks,” breathed out Betty, closing her eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“Good,” said Kevin cheerfully. “Now, I’m going to go outside, so you’d better make your way back to Hufflepuff to let me in.”

Betty grinned. “If not me, V will.”

Kevin grinned back, and then turned and exited the main doors. Betty sprinted down the halls, skidding to a stop in front of the vinegar barrels that doubled as the entrance to Hufflepuff, and tapped her wand on them.

They slipped apart, and she entered the low-ceiling dormitory, and went straight to her room, ignoring Trevor and Adam calling her name. Veronica was at her desk, working on homework; she looked up as Betty entered, watching silently as Betty went to the usual window, enlarged it, and waited for Kevin. He appeared moments later, slipping in.

“I really should just leave a change of clothes in here,” he commented lightly, bouncing over to collapse on Veronica’s bed.

Veronica made a moue of displeasure as Kevin rumpled her duvet, but turned to Betty and asked, “How did it go?”

She shrugged. “Not well. He doesn’t believe me.”

“Ugh,” said Veronica, tossing down her quill. “Well, you did your best.”

A gleam appeared in Betty’s eyes. “Not even. I still have one more thing I can do that will convince Archie that he’s wrong.”

“Just for the record,” began Kevin, interjecting in the conversation, “I have no idea what you’re talking about – although I can guess – but do you want me to go off and do something else for plausible deniability?”

“ _I_ have no idea what B is talking about either,” added Veronica, turning fully in her seat to face Betty. She eyed her friend carefully. “What are you planning?”

“Something,” replied the blonde with a bit of a shifty eye.

“Something that will... get us in detention?” asked Kevin carefully.

Betty squirmed.

“Something that will get us expelled?” asked Veronica.

Betty pursed her lips shut.

Kevin sighed. “Something that will get my dad really upset because it's criminal?”

“... Probably,” Betty said eventually. She then burst out, “ _but_ we might have his support since he already helped us a bit with the folder.”

Kevin brought a hand to his temple and began to rub small circles into the skin.

Veronica sighed, closing her open textbook and standing. “Well, we can’t let you do it alone, B. So... where are we going?”

Betty gave a tiny grin at her friends, both of whom were staring at her and waiting for her response. “Um, Grundy’s office?”

They groaned.

*

Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside of Professor Grundy’s office, down the hall from her classroom. All three were in their darkest clothing – which was predominantly their Hogwarts uniform. Kevin had his satchel, and the Betty brought her purse with the folder Kevin’s father gave them. She wasn’t going to leave it somewhere for someone else to pick up and read.

 Kevin had disillusioned them – knowing Veronica’s charm work wasn’t that strong – and they kept tight to the wall and the shadows, attempting to avoid portraits and ghosts alike.

“So much for letting this go,” muttered Veronica, bent slightly at the waist as she peered down the darkened hallway. “Are we really breaking into Professor Grundy’s office right now?”

Betty did not designate a reply, on her knees in front of the door. An _alohomora_ was too simple to attempt – and likely, Grundy had wards on her door against a simple unlocking spell.

She held out her hand towards Veronica. “Bobby pin.”

Veronica sighed and pulled one out from her hair, smacking Betty’s hand a bit harder than she intended when she put it in her open, flat palm. Betty winced, but stuck it in the keyhole, beginning to move it back and forth.

“Okay, MacGyver, how do you even know how to do that?” asked Kevin from Betty’s other side, watching the hallway in the opposite direction of Veronica.

Betty chuckled under her breath. “My dad is a Muggleborn, and when he graduated from Hogwarts, the Weasley twins were already in their third year – he taught them to pick locks and then taught me.”

There was a tiny click.

She looked up at Kevin and said, “He’s under the firm impression that knowing how to do something both the Muggle and magical way is important.”

“Okay, before going any further, if I’m committing a felony, I need to at least ask the question,” stated Veronica as Betty pushed open the office door. The hinges were well oiled and noiseless. “Are you doing this because you still have feelings for Archie, or...?”

“No, Veronica,” replied Betty firmly, standing and looking at her friend. “One, I think we all know about my crush on Jughead; and two, we’re doing this because Grundy has Archie under some kind of love potion, and he won’t listen to reason. We’re looking for anything that proves Grundy isn’t as clean as she says she is.”

Kevin and Veronica shared a look behind Betty’s back, but the three moved into the Professor’s office and went in different directions. Betty went straight to her desk, opening drawers; Veronica went to the tall shelves in the far corner, filled with books and Muggle knickknacks, and Kevin shut the door behind them, opting as look out.

Betty shifted some papers on the top of the desk, but saw nothing but unmarked and marked assignments. She then opened the two top drawers to the left, but inside was nothing but well-organized quills, extra spare parchment, and a few feminine odds and ends.

The last, bottom drawer, was golden.

A grey lockbox was nestled under a spare dress robe, its tiny lock gleaming and clean – it had recently been used.

“Guys, over here,” she called, and Kevin and Veronica stood on either side of her as Betty placed it on top of the desk. She pulled her wand out and tapped the lock once, whispering, “ _alohomora_.”

The lock sprung open. Inside, there were several pieces of paper – not parchment, but actual printer paper – and a few loose ID cards. Veronica reached in and picked one up.

“Oh, Merlin. ‘Jennifer Gibson’?” she read, squinting at the name on the card – an ID for a Muggle driver’s license.

“Who the hell is Jennifer Gibson?” whispered Kevin.

“Merlin,” whispered Betty, the horror in her voice drawing Veronica and Kevin’s attention away from the ID in Veronica’s hands. “That’s not the only thing....”

Betty reached into the lockbox, and pulled out a tiny, shiny Muggle pistol.

The three were silent for a moment longer, and then Kevin let out a tiny, shaky exhale. “I think we need to go to my dad. We need to tell him about this.”

“And say what? We broke into a Professor’s office?” asked Veronica, as Betty shut the lockbox, replaced the lock, and slipped it into the drawer. The ID and gun remained on top of the desk – both items, a glaring offense.

Kevin glared. “It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last. A lot of students do it!”

“But a lot of students _don’t_ find Muggle guns or fake IDs!” snapped Veronica.

“It’s not a fake ID,” replied Betty quietly, taking the gun and slipping it into her purse. Kevin sputtered next to her, making vague hand gestures that she ignored. “We need to let Archie know.”

“What? _Now_?” asked Veronica.

Betty turned to her friend. “V, another moment Archie doesn’t know is another moment alone with Grundy. It’s not right. We need to tell him.”

Veronica crossed her arms and cocked out a hip. “And _why_ are we telling Archie and not going to Professor Sinistra? Or Headmistress McGonagall?”

Betty bit her lip. “Because I want to give Archie the chance to know first. Before we do anything else.”

Kevin sighed. “Oh, Betty. Still protecting Archie, aren’t we?”

Her eyes welled up. “I can’t help it. I’m so used to doing it – protecting him. Just this once. We do it my way, and then... if we need to...”

Veronica dropped her arms. “Kev and I will tell a professor, B.” She closed her eyes and then, when she opened them, the dark orbs were lit with an inner fire. “Now, let’s go find Archiekins, shall we?”

The three barrelled through the portrait opening of the kitchens, the last place they were going to look before curfew. The skidded to a stop when they realized that Archie wasn’t alone.

Betty flushed bright red, and the other two stilled behind her. Archie was sitting with Jughead, opposite of one another. Jughead had clearly polished his way through several sandwiches, due to the large plate at his side containing only crumbs, versus Archie’s large – but single – sandwich on a plate in front of him.

He glanced up at the intrusion, and carefully put his sandwich down and moaned, “Oh, God. Please don’t tell me you’re still on this crazy witch hunt.”

Veronica bristled at the term. “It’s not a witch hunt, and it’s not crazy.”

“We were just in Grundy’s office,” interjected Kevin.

“What?” Archie stood from the bench at the kitchen table, face pale. Jughead, mouth full, heavily swallowed and looked back and forth between the three and Archie. “You were in her _office_?”

“Yeah, and thank Merlin we were!” snapped Veronica, planting on hands on her hips. She took a step forward. “We found a gun.”

Archie swayed slightly where he stood. “What?”

“And an ID with the name Jennifer Gibson,” said Betty quietly, taking a step forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Veronica, who was still glaring at Archie. Kevin quickly stepped up with them – after all, they had all gone through her office together. “This is proof Professor Grundy is not who she says she is!”

Archie inhaled quickly and sharply through his nose, anger quickly mounting and visible on his flushed face. He pinched his lips together. “Then who is she?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Obviously some Polyjuice whack named Jennifer Gibson.”

Jughead stifled a snort, and turned away quickly to face into the kitchen when Archie turned to glare at his best friend.

“Archie, what if she had something to do with Jason’s murder?” asked Betty, appealing to that part of the narrative she was trying to create. “She taught him; she made you lie about him, and we know she was at the lake... she has a _gun_...”

Jughead cleared his throat, and felt best to interject a bit here. “If we’re talking about people with violent tendencies, or the possibility to become violent, Dilton Doiley should be on that list. But you never thought he killed Jason, Betts.”

Betty turned her eyes to her crush, the hurt blossoming in her chest the same way it had when Archie confirmed that Jughead knew about him and Grundy but hadn’t spoken to her about it, leaving her to discover it through Dilton’s confession instead. She bit her lip, then turned from him without speaking; it was a dismissal. She failed to notice the lightning-quick shock that spread across Jughead’s face before it settled into his usual Slytherin mask.

“Open your eyes, Archie!” pled Betty instead, clasping her hands tightly together in front of her. “Jason was her student last year. Everything about her is a huge, boldfaced question mark.”

Archie sighed. “Okay, whatever her name is -- she’s not a killer.”

Veronica’s hands migrated from her hips to cross in front of her chest. “You didn’t ask her, did you? About her name? Betty mentioned she spoke to you about all that and you didn’t believe her. Did you ask why there’s no record of her before last year? I’m going to assume you saw her between when Betty spoke to you a few hours ago and now.”

Archie winced, confirming to all of them the truth to Veronica’s theory.

Kevin asked what was on all their minds. “Oh wow. Why not?”

Archie sighed, turning his eyes up towards the ceiling. It was clear he was trying to control his temper.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him. “No idea, right? She can't explain why she has a fake identity and keeps a gun.”

Betty added, speaking softly, “It still doesn’t make what she did to you okay.”

Apparently, that was all Archie could take. He turned away from facing his friends and slammed his hands on the kitchen table. “Oh, my God! _Enough_. She didn’t do anything. Betty, you have to accept that. And I’m all she has, right now.”

Beside him, Jughead slowly rose to his feet, eyes on his friend who trembled under the strain of holding in his temper.

“You’re in over your head, Arch. You’re in this relationship with this person who is cutting you off from everyone else in your life!” continued Betty, moving forward and away from Veronica and Kevin, who ended up flanking her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Archie coolly, staring at Betty.

“Really? You _don’t_?” Betty scoffed. “Let’s talk about July fourth then, Archie. Let’s talk about a road trip you and Jug were supposed to take.”

“Hey, um, let’s not,” started Jughead, eyes darting back and forth. As friends, they had all been privy to a handful of nasty fights between each other; but rarely had those fights been between Betty and Archie. Jughead could count on one hand how often they shared nasty words, and he’d have four fingers left over.

Betty ignored him. “Let’s talk about who you were with that weekend instead, hmm? About what you heard.”

“B...” started Veronica, quietly, tentatively.

“And how she didn’t want you to say anything to Auror Keller, right? Because it wasn’t _safe_ ,” here, Kevin winced and nervously shifted on his feet. “But who wasn’t it safe for, Arch? Huh? Her or you? Her reputation or yours?”

“Betty,” warned Jughead, moving behind Archie to stand between the two, an unwanted referee.

“Just think about what you’re doing, Archie. Not only for your sake, but Professor Grundy’s,” the blonde witch spat, brows furrowed into an angry V, and lips pulled down. “Is this really what’s best for her? Best for _you_?”

“Betty!” Jughead called out.

The girl in question blinked, startled. She hadn’t realized how far forward she had moved when she began speaking, or how involved she was in the conversation. Her hands were tightly curled at her side and she was breathing heavily, leaning up and into Archie’s space, eyes locked on his.

She reeled back in shock at the murderous glare he directed at her.

He was pale and furious – there were two high splotches of red on his cheeks, and his eyes were narrowed in a way that she only saw when he tackled Reggie. He too was breathing heavily, and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“Betty,” he said firmly, enunciating each word carefully to disguise his lack of control. “I strongly suggest you leave. And _don’t_ speak to me.”

Her mouth opened and an aborted noise escaped. Jughead immediately moved between her and Archie, putting his hands on her shoulders and moving close enough so that he was blocking Archie from her view.

Her heart stuttered, and fluttered – caught between the unintentional anguish she put her closest friend through and the desire and nerves of being near her crush. Her wide eyes met Jughead’s; they were slightly cool – but she could tell he was exasperated as well as worried with her.

“Betts,” he said quietly, “You should go. Go back to your dorm, okay?”

“But,” she whispered through trembling lips, “I – I didn’t –”

Jughead sighed, and his thumbs made a smoothing gesture across her shoulders. She quivered. “I know. But you should still go.” His eyes trailed up over her to meet a stricken Veronica and Kevin standing behind her. “All of you.”

“Come on, B,” muttered Veronica, reaching forward and drawing her from Jughead’s hands and pulling her back to the kitchen entrance, Kevin trailing behind.

They stepped out of the portrait, Jughead quickly closing it behind them. Betty realized she was shaking.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her hands trembling in front of her. Her eyes were wide as they focused on her friends. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit!” parroted Kevin, awe tingeing his voice. “Since when did you go all Betty the Vampire Slayer on people?”

Betty swallowed and blinked.

“Right, you are in _no_ shape to deal,” said Veronica sharply. “Back to the Hufflepuff dorm, I think. Kev, we’ll see you there the usual way?”

He sighed but nodded, heading up while they went down the corridor, Veronica leading Betty with a hand clasping hers. Minutes later, they were in the dorm room, curfew having just begun; Kevin was snuck in and the three were sitting in various places around the dorm room, equally stunned.

“You know, when I said I could read and I thought something was up between Archie and Grundy, I didn’t actually think it was the teacher coming onto a student scenario,” said Kevin, a strangely twisted expression on his face. “It’s a bit too Mrs. Robinson for my taste.”

“It’s icky,” replied Veronica, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s worse than that,” said Betty, shaking her head and drawing her knees up to rest her chin on them. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest and rocked a bit on the hardwood floor. “Did you hear him? Archie said she was the only one who believed in him.”

“Believe in him for what?” asked Veronica, frowning. She was perched on her bed, poised up against the numerous fluffy pillows against her headboard with her eyes darting between Kevin and Betty.

Kevin was spinning Veronica’s desk chair, but at her question, stopped spinning and focusing intently on Betty. He quirked an eyebrow and Betty sighed, realizing that Veronica had no idea of Archie’s past – or really, anyone’s past at Hogwarts – and that she didn’t have the same handle on the situation.

“Archie’s parents split a couple of years back,” explained Betty quietly. “We were thirteen and his mom took off to Paris. She wanted Archie to come with her, but he wanted to stay here and at Hogwarts. It was also when we were starting to pick electives and Archie kind of got it in his head to do music.”

“He’s not bad,” said Kevin defensively, at Veronica’s skeptical look. “He’s just... not that good, either. That’s mainly because Josie and the Pussycats get all the attention when it comes to musical talent.”

Betty nodded and continued. “Mr. Andrews is really nice, but he grew up in the Muggle world and knows how difficult it is to become a popular musician there – and here? In the magical world? It’s even worse. We’ve got like, maybe four main acts that we all know, and the youngest group – the Weird Sisters – are now hitting their fifties.”

“So Mr. Andrews kind of forced Archie to go with Quidditch instead,” supplied Kevin, picking the story up, “Because there are a lot more Quidditch teams and they offer a lot of money and support for their players. More than a musician, anyway.”

“Except I guess he felt that Professor Grundy would be able to help him,” said Betty, making a face. “I guess it’s because she’s the Muggle Studies professor. She might have contacts in the Muggle world to help him pick up his career.”

“I wonder what Jason needed from her then,” mused aloud Veronica, sliding down her pillows until only her head rested on them. “I suppose I can understand Archie saying that _she’s_ helping him, but how does that mean no one else believed in him?”

Betty shrugged, loosening her arms and stretching her legs out in front of her. “Probably because although we said we liked his music and wished him well, we didn’t exactly help him open for the Pussycats at last years’ Yule Ball.”

Kevin snorted, and resumed his spinning. “I’m sorry, do you not remember his extreme stage fright last year when it was open auditions? He choked.”

“Choked?” asked Veronica, sitting up.

Betty nodded, spinning a strand of hair around her finger. “It was awful. He just froze on stage, forgot all his lyrics.”

“Maybe he thinks Grundy can help him with that?” asked Veronica.

Kevin and Betty equally made disgusted faces.

“By sleeping with him?” Kevin continued, incredulously.

Veronica grimaced. “When you put it that way, Kev...”

“Look, we tried,” said Betty quietly, closing her eyes and remembering the furious face of her best friend. “I can’t – I can’t do anything more. I already messed up one promise to him. He’s my best friend and I can’t hurt him that way again.”

“You also can’t let her get away with it,” said Veronica pointedly.

“But if we go to a professor, or Headmistress McGonagall, he’ll know it was me,” sighed Betty, “And that would just destroy whatever friendship we have.”

“I think he’d understand,” said Kevin, frowning. “...Eventually.”

The three were silent. Betty finally climbed to her feet, grabbed her pajamas, and made her way to the bathroom. “We’re going to just go in circles. We’ll figure it out, I guess. But I’m going to get ready and get some sleep. Are we all going tomorrow to the Twilight?”

“Yes!” said Veronica, cheer in her voice as she sat up, turning to her friend. “The three of us should go together! We’ll make a date out of it.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else for me,” groused Kevin.

Betty went into the bathroom, heading straight for her toothbrush and toothpaste. As she was cleaning her teeth, she thought back to Jughead in the kitchen, and her own confusing reaction from the previous evening learning that he had kept Archie’s secret.

 _I guess no matter how upset he was, he was Archie’s friend first,_ she thought. _And I can’t fault him for that, given my own reaction._

She sighed around her foamy mouth, spitting out the excess. She clenched her hands on the side of the vanity counter, enjoying the feel of the cool porcelain against her palms. The gouges she had made were raw, but she hadn’t broken the skin in a few days, luckily. Hiding the marks from Veronica and Kevin wasn’t easy, especially given how much time they were spending together, but she was managing.

She changed into her cotton shorts and oversized sleep t-shirt, firmly determined to put the Archie and Professor Grundy situation out of her mind for now – she would spend time with her friends tomorrow, and hopefully see Jughead, too.

Upon exiting the bathroom, she noticed that Kevin had moved from Veronica’s desk to her bed, sitting next to her. He and Veronica also had vaguely guilty looks on their faces, but while Betty eyed them curiously, she didn’t want to know.

She was tired. Tired of a lot of things, and it hadn't even been a full month since school began.

“Bed?” she asked instead, climbing on to her bed and pulling the covers back.

“I guess I’m sharing with you, Ronnie,” she heard Kevin say, as her back was turned, pulling the many pillows off the bed.

“Just don’t kick me again,” Veronica said.

Betty smiled, and then the lights went out.

*

Saturday was overcast but still comfortable for Scotland, but Betty could tell that winter was on its way with the chill that hung in the air. Most students got up late on weekends, but she was up early, having not slept well.

Instead, she was at breakfast when she realized what was going on.

The Great Hall wasn’t too full; there were several upper years who were keen to get started at Hogsmeade, as well as some third and fourth years, but for the most part, there was barley a third of the school in attendance.

Head Auror Keller walked in that morning, along with two of his red-robe wearing subordinates. He went straight to the head table, speaking to McGonagall in quiet, hushed whispers. She was listening carefully to him, eyes narrowed until they widened in shock, before narrowing again in an angry, pinched movement. She stood, along with Professor Longbottom at her side, and together, they along with the two Aurors, left the Great Hall. Head Auror Keller moved slower, behind them.

His head turned as they passed the Hufflepuff table and caught Betty’s eyes.

She inhaled sharply, and _knew_.

She sat frozen, pale.

“Hey, Betty?” asked Adam, who had sat a few seats away from her. He leaned across the table and peered at her worriedly. “Are you okay? You’re really pale. Do you want me to go with you to see Madam Promfrey?”

“I – I – ah,” stuttered Betty, turning her eyes to the Gryffindor table and nearly sagging in relief when she didn’t spot Archie. But then horror swept through her.

_Where was Archie?_

After last night, with how angry he was, would he have gone back to the Gryffindor tower?

Her eyes moved up and down the table, finally landing on Reggie, who despite what many thought, was a very early riser. Betty abruptly stood, ignoring Adam, and practically flew across the aisle and down towards the back of the Hall, stopping before the tall Asian Gryffindor.

“Morning, Sunshine,” greeted Reggie absently as he buttered his toast.

“Reggie,” began Betty nervously.

He looked up.

“Did Archie return to the dorm last night?” she asked.

Reggie gave a slow smirk. “Had a lover’s spat, Barbie? Too bad – but I can safely say Ken never returned. I guess he was warming someone else’s bed last night and not yours.”

Betty blanched.

“Oi, it was a joke, Betty,” said Reggie, blinking at her extreme response. He put down his toast. “I didn’t – I mean – everyone knows about you and Andrews –”

Betty shakily exhaled. “It’s not that, Reggie. But, um. Thanks... thanks for letting me know.”

On wobbly legs, she turned back to the Hufflepuff table, where Adam was watching her curiously. She moved like a zombie, unaware of her surroundings and mechanically sat back down to eat her breakfast. The first bite tasted like ashes, and her appetite was gone.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, or how Adam kept turning worried eyes at her, finally flagging down Veronica and Kevin when they entered, or if Veronica was able to coax her to eat anything else.

But she did know when everything came to head, because Auror Keller made his arrest.

They were leaving the Great Hall, and there, in the hallway, stood Kevin’s father with Professor Longbottom, Fred Andrews, and a pale Archie. Even worse, her mother was there, looking coolly perfect as she eyed Professor Longbottom, speaking quietly to Archie with a hand on his shoulder and Fred Andrews hovering protectively on his other side. But Archie kept his eyes on the floor of the entrance hall.

Headmistress McGonagall was gone, as were the other two Aurors, and Betty could only surmise that they had escorted Professor Grundy out of Hogwarts.

Other students were beginning to filter down into the Great Hall, eyeing the group curiously but none were brave enough to move forward, until Betty moved forward, Veronica and Kevin hurriedly on her heels.

“...can't let that happen,” she heard Archie mumble, his voice cracking on the last word.

Fred Andrews sighed, sharing a look with Professor Longbottom. “Son, it's complicated...”

Archie looked up, and Betty felt like someone punched her in the stomach, spotting the wetness in her friend’s eyes. Behind her, Veronica or Kevin made a shape inhale.

“She didn't force me to do anything, I went after her. Everything that happened, I wanted it to happen,” said Archie earnestly.

“Mr. Andrews,” said Professor Longbottom, a tension in his face that was usually absent. “You’re a minor, and she was in a position of power over you as your professor. It won’t matter what happened – what you wanted to happen or not.”

Then, Alice Cooper was in the conversation and Betty darted forward. “I never thought that I would live to see the day. I thought the one thing that we could keep our school and community safe from was child predators.”

“Professor Grundy wasn’t a predator!” defended Archie hotly, glaring at her mother.

Alice just surveyed him coolly in response.

Betty inserted herself at her mother’s side, drawing the groups’ attention to her, including Auror Keller, whose eyes moved over her to his son hovering awkwardly at her side. Betty pushed her chin up and asked, “Why are you doing this, Mom? Can’t you see he’s hurting? Leave Archie alone.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Elizabeth. This is _all_ about him. I want you see what kind of person Archie truly is.”

“What?” Fred frowned and straightened to his full height, while at his side Professor Longbottom’s head swung back and forth between the two parents. “Wait a minute; is that what this is about? Your crazy grudge against my teenage son?”

Betty fought the urge to curl her hands into fists. “I'm never going to stop being friends with Archie, Mom. _Ever_.”

“Um, should we maybe move this somewhere a bit more private?” suggested Professor Longbottom, looking nervously over his shoulder where a few bolder students were lingering. His frown sent them scurrying into the Great Hall. “The students are going to be coming soon to take the carriages to Hogsmeade.”

Ignoring him, Fred spoke angrily. “We are done here.”

“Oh, we are far from being done!” retorted Alice, pulling her own shoulders back.

Across from her, Archie’s face screwed up. “Stop.”

“Oh, my God, Alice, _shut up_ ,” snapped Fred.

“Stop!”

“I’m _never_ going to stop so long as my daughter is friends with your degenerate son, Fred,” replied Alice hotly.

“Stop! _Please_ ,” begged Archie, raising his voice over both parents. They both turned to him in surprise. “You're right, Mrs. Cooper. You're right. I don't deserve to be your daughter's friend. But please, don't hurt Professor Grundy because you wanna hurt me. Don’t write about her in the _Prophet_.”

Alice’s eyes softened a bit as she looked at Betty’s oldest friend, standing before her miserable and hunched. She sighed. “This isn't about hurting anyone, Archie. It's about doing what's right.” She paused, and then added, “And of course, informing our neighbors.”

Fred noisily exhaled, “Alice, I swear to–”

Alice turned her frosty eyes at her neighbour and old year mate. “You swear to _what_ , Fred–”

Betty couldn’t take it anymore. Her face settled into a stern frown, and her voice was firm as she said, “Publish one word about this, Mom, and I will tell everyone that I broke into Professor Grundy's office.”

Professor Longbottom groaned.

Kevin and Veronica then scrambled over one another to stand at Betty’s side, equally firm in their additions.

“I helped her!” Kevin blurted.

“I also broke into Professor Grundy’s office!” added Veronica loudly.

Next to Professor Longbottom, Fred looked thunderstruck, while Kevin’s father loudly sighed. That’s when she realized – _Kev and V must have decided to send an owl to his father when i was in the bathroom. They kept me out of it._

“Betty–” gasped Alice, looking at her daughter as if she had never seen her before.

“Do it and I’ll tell everyone that I robbed her, and made up the story of their affair,” continued Betty, her voice deadly serious and her gaze cool as she focused on her mother and her mother alone. “It will be like, I finally... _snapped_. Like Polly.”

Auror Keller perked up at this, but Betty ignored him and continued, “It'll prove what everyone already thinks about us: ‘Crazy runs in that family.’ That is comes from the Selwyn line – just like your father and uncle, and it’ll all make sense. Like mother, like daughter.”

Alice winced and then settled her face into a blank mask only Slytherins could manage. “You wouldn't dare.”

Betty met her stare. “I absolutely would dare, Mom. Try me.”

“All right, enough,” broke in Professor Longbottom, drawing up to his full height – which was impressively over six feet and taller than both Head Auror Keller and Fred Andrews. His face settled into a stern frown. “ _No one_ is going to be writing about anything in the _Prophet_ ,” he gave a stern glare at Alice, who crossed her arms, “and no one is certainly going to write about a minor, either.”

When Alice didn’t speak, he glared at her. “Right?”

“Oh, all right,” sighed Alice.

“Good,” the professor continued, turning to Betty, Veronica, and Kevin. “And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear anything about breaking into a professor’s office – because it never happened. Right?”

“Yessir,” muttered Kevin. Betty nodded furiously beside him.

“What? What happened?” asked Veronica airily.

“Ms. Grundy will still be charged,” interrupted Auror Keller, his tone slightly apologetic as he glanced over at Archie, who frowned and blinked quickly. He turned to Alice. “Will that satisfy you? Her off the street and not welcomed back in Britain?”

Alice nodded, and Fred sighed beside his son. “Yes. It will.”

“It better,” muttered Fred.

“Why does she need to leave?” asked Archie plaintively.

Fred put his hand on Archie’s shoulder and squeezed. “Son... it’s what’s best.”

“It’s not, it’s really not,” muttered Archie, shaking his head. Betty’s heart broke, and she wanted to go to her friend, but knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Right,” said Auror Keller finally, glancing around the mishmash bunch that stood in the entrance hall. “I’ll go... get this sorted out then.” He turned to his son, and asked, “Stop by the house tonight before going to the Twilight?”

Kevin nodded, and his father turned on his heel and strode out the main doors, everyone watching.

“The same for you, Elizabeth,” snapped Alice, drawing Betty’s attention and bringing her face around to look at her mother. “You are spending this weekend at home, where we are going to _discuss_ things.”

“Seriously?” Betty groaned.

“Yes, young lady,” continued Alice, uncaring of the audience. “I won’t have any more secrets between us. Not anymore. Not if I’m going to keep you safe.”

Betty felt heat rise through her, and her fists curled at her side. “What’s my name, Mom? Say it.”

“What? Elizabeth, you’re not making—”

“What’s. My. Name?” she gritted out.

Alice, wide-eyed, glanced around and saw no help from Fred or Professor Longbottom. She said, slowly, “Elizabeth Cooper.”

“That’s right,” agreed Betty, breathing heavily. “I am _Elizabeth_ , not Polly. Merlin! Archie is not Jason. So stop using them as an excuse to control my life!”

Alice gaped for a moment, but then snapped her mouth shut and with a frosty look directed at her daughter, she turned and left the same way Auror Keller did.

Fred brought an arm up and around Archie, and began leading him towards the doors. “I’m gonna take Arch home for the weekend, Professor. That okay?”

“’Course,” replied Professor Longbottom with a nod.

As they walked by, Betty caught Archie’s eyes. They were wet and red rimmed, and she mouthed, “ _I’m so sorry_ ,” to him. He closed his eyes in pain, briefly, but when he opened them, he gave her a small, sad smile.

“ _Me too_ ,” he mouthed, and then the Andrews were gone, and Professor Longbottom left, heading for the Great Hall, and Veronica, Kevin, and Betty remained in the quiet entrance hall.

“Love makes you do crazy things,” said Betty quietly.

Veronica wrapped an arm around Betty’s right, squeezing it and leaning into her side. “I’m sorry, B. Maybe some of what Kev and I did was wrong, but maybe...”

Kevin shook his head and stepped up to Betty’s other side. “You were right about some things, too. And it needed to be done.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” whispered Betty, eyes still locked on the figure of her best friend as he became smaller and smaller, walking away from her and Hogwarts.

“He will,” said Veronica quietly, but confidently.

Betty sniffed, loudly, and clung tightly on her friends.

*

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always a challenge to incorporate the dialogue from the show and not use ALL of it, but change up enough or add things, to make it fit the story and read so that you're doing pretty much reading a Harry Potter AU of Riverdale. There's enough changes, and once the Polly story line comes into play, a lot more will start happening. But I can't believe I've written nearly three chapters that all take place in ep4 and I haven't moved past it yet...


	9. Rebels (with?/out?) a Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble with this chapter. Mainly, because I didn't integrate the Veronica/Chuck story line, and I spent some time really grappling with the idea of "should I/shouldn't I" to bring it in. After **much** discussion, including a very long rant from my husband about the problems and unrealistic teens in Rowling's universe, I finally managed to hash out a plan. 
> 
> As such, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, as we're getting into setup and the beginning of canon divergence. 
> 
> **For reference:**  
>  What [Hogsmeade's main drag looks like](http://theenchantedmanor.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Hogsmeade-1.jpg)  
> The map I used to reference [Hogsmeade](https://lexicon-media.storage.googleapis.com/legacy/images/maps/hogsmeademap-sh.gif). Hogsmeade is located to the south of the lake, Hogwarts to the north. The Forbidden Forrest is to the west and the mountains are to the east.

*

IX: Rebels (with?/out?) a Cause

*

“That's why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they'd call them something else.”

\-- Jim Baker, _Sixteen Candles_

*

Despite any real witnesses to what happened to Archie in the entrance hall, the entirety of Hogwarts knew about him and Grundy by the time Betty, Veronica, and Kevin left Hogwarts that Saturday afternoon for Hogsmeade. Both Kevin and Betty carried overnight bags – staying at home for the weekend – while Veronica pouted at being left behind by her friends.

By unanimous decision, the three dropped Betty’s bag off at her house first, with both her parents luckily out at the _Prophet_ instead of being at home; the lights were on at Archie’s, but none felt it best to drop by and ask how he was doing.

They then travelled down a few more side streets until they reached Kevin’s home, a cute, split-level cottage with many wood accents and hipped roof, and a single gravel road leading up to it. The house was at the end of the street, surrounded by tall and thick trees and butting up against the forest that surrounded Hogsmeade and kept it the only pure-wizarding community in Britain.

Kevin ushered them through the porch side entrance, leading through a roomy and large kitchen, also in browns and beiges, where he dropped his duffle bag on the floor next to an island bar.

“Dad? Hey dad?” he called, as both Betty and Veronica looked around curiously.

“In here,” his father’s voice carried through the ground floor, and the three followed it.

Auror Keller sat at a messy desk in a small office with a single window overlooking the side yard. He wasn’t wearing his red Auror robes, but rather a button-up shirt and casual trousers, leaning over his desk as he tried to rummage through the mess.

He glanced up as Kevin entered the room, but both Veronica and Betty politely hung around the doorframe instead. “Hey, Kev; girls.”

“Hi Auror Keller,” the two young women chorused, Veronica beaming brightly while Betty’s eyes travelled to the familiar murder board taking up the wall on her left, nearly exactly like hers in the Black and Gold office.

“Nice murder wall, _True Detective_ ,” chuckled Kevin, peering at the board. He too noticed the differences, and pointed at one. “You’ve added Grundy on here now.”

“I have,” answered Keller, running a hand through his hair. “I have to say thanks for the tip about her; it helped that you asked about her first, but the Owl I got from you late last night was enough for us to bring her in for questioning.”

“Did you find something that ties her to Jason?” asked Betty curiously.

The older man tilted his head towards her. “You know I can’t confirm or deny that, Betty.”

She sighed, but bit her lip and nodded her head in understanding.

“Anyway – bud, you need something?” the Auror asked, turning back to his son.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Kevin turned from the board to face his father. “Can we nix curfew tonight? It’s the final feature for the Twilight and I’m pretty sure we’re all going to go to the Three Broomsticks afterward.”

Auror Keller quirked his eyebrows, glancing at the girls. “You got a date?”

Kevin exhaled. “No, I'm going with Veronica and Betty.”

“Oh, okay,” his father said, then paused. “I mean, is there not a nice gay kid at Hogwarts?”

Kevin gave his father a hard stare, and then said pointedly, “Yeah. There is – _me_.”

His father’s cheeks tinged a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “All right. Sorry.” He then eyed his son, and then turned the look on both Veronica and Betty, who stood straighter. “Don’t go wandering away from Hogsmeade after everything tonight, okay? We all know what goes on in those woods.”

Kevin flushed in mortification. “Oh Merlin, _dad_!”

“No, I’m serious,” the Head Auror said firmly. “Got it? No repeats of late night skinny-dipping. One, it’s too cold; and two, we’ve got a murderer on the loose and a lot of unsavoury characters that hang out around the Twilight since it’s at the edge of Hogsmeade. So, if you go, you stay on the main drag. No wandering off.”

“Got it,” mumbled Kevin.

“Sounds good, Auror Keller,” added Betty with her widest, good girl smile that she could muster up at that moment.

The older man looked at the three suspiciously – and not without reason, since barely four hours earlier he had heard them confess to breaking into a professor’s office – but then waved them off. “Have fun, kids.”

The three scrambled out of the house, down the long street filled with other cottage-like houses recessed within the dark foliage of green, red, and yellow leaves.

“What do you think Jughead decided on?” asked Kevin, burrowing a bit deeper into his coat as a breeze kicked up.

Veronica rubbed her hands together. “I hope he went with my suggestion and picked an Audrey Hepburn film.”

Betty gave a tiny smile – she had an idea what he would’ve chosen.

Kevin saw and moaned, “Not fair, Betty! You already know.”

“I have a strong suspicion,” she replied, green eyes dancing.

At the end of the street, they turned down another house-lined lane, only the houses were less cottages and more two-storey craftsman designs. These houses were similar to the Andrews and the Coopers, which lived one street over, closer to the Black Lake with a nice, northern view of Hogwarts. Hogsmeade prided itself on a small-town aesthetic, presenting unique houses and white-picket fences.

Further beyond in the vales behind Hogsmeade dotting the hills with incredible views, were some Georgian manors (owned by those with more Galleons than sense), and who wished to remain in the Hogsmeade area instead of spending the money on Unplottable properties far from civilization. Thornhill, the Blossom ancestral home, was one such manor.

The three entered into Hogsmeade – the proper main street that ran parallel to the Black Lake but not on it. Hogsmeade was lined with wall-to-wall stores and gabled roofs, reminiscent of a line of pointed wizard’s hats or inverted Vs following one another. Every three buildings, there would be a gap and an avenue leading off to a residential area facing Hogwarts, or smaller businesses facing toward the forests and vales.

One of these avenues, at the intersection where Gladrags and Scrivenshaft’s sat, led to the Hog’s Head and a more disreputable area of the town.

The buildings here were detached Tudor styles, constructed of stone with patches of white and brown boards and beams, and sharply angled roofs and thin windows. The Hog’s Head was a symmetrical detached Tudor, its windows dirt-smudged and foggy; the Twilight Theatre was just beyond the pub – in fact, it was the original pub’s farmhouse before converted into a single screen theatre –, at the edge of Hogsmeade, where the avenue turned into a muddy dirt path before winding itself into the forest.

Bought nearly two decades previous, when the Second Blood War ended, by an enterprising and hopeful Muggleborn, the Twilight Theatre once was a beacon of Muggle innovation embraced by a war-weary population that quickly and firmly rejected anything considered ‘traditionally Pureblood.’

The barn itself retained it stone and wooden exterior, in the same style as the Hog’s Head, but over the years as interest waned and the Hogsmeade council began to increase taxes, the Muggleborn owner had to sell to the town and cut their losses. Now, the building was almost derelict, held up by the creeping vines, magic, and the sheer determination of a well-constructed barn.

Both the Hog’s Head and the Twilight were far enough away from the main street and the residential area that the noise of late-night customers and events rarely carried into Hogsmeade. Its location far from the Hogsmeade train station and near the forest meant privacy – for Hogwarts students who didn’t want to visit Madam Puddifoot’s or the Three Broomsticks, preferring a change in venue; for older, heavier drinkers who frequented the dark and dirty Hog’s Head; or the Serpents, who conducted business in the shadow of both buildings.

Despite the waning interest in the Twilight Theatre, the grounds around the old barn was busy – filled with Hogwarts students gossiping about Archie (especially when they caught sight of Betty and her friends), or older wizards and witches who milled around before the film. Others stood nearby, outside the Hog’s Head, laughing loudly and drunkenly.

Kevin, Betty, and Veronica edged around several potbellied wizards with long beard and clashing robes, all of whom were loudly arguing a recent Wizengamot session. Above the fully open brown, wooden barn doors was a bight marquee, informing all who visited what the final film the Twilight would be showing was.

“Oh, Juggie,” breathed Betty, her eyes reading _Rebel Without a Cause_ , and underneath it, in smaller capital letters, were the leading actors of _James Dean_ and _Natalie Wood_.

“I knew it!” crowed Kevin, eyes bright. “I knew he’d pick that one, after you mentioned it at the Three Broomsticks on Thursday.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Well, at least James Dean is dishy.”

She eyed the crowd in front of the open doors, where some people in black leather jackets were standing around; there was a clear separation between them and Hogwarts students and cinema attendees: the leather-clad witches and wizards stood in front of the concession booth while the others, by the ticket booth. “C’mon, there’s already a crowd and I want to get good seats.”

They walked forward, Kevin eyeing the leather jacket-wearing group carefully and measuring his steps so it didn’t look like he was ushering his friends quickly towards the non-leather jacket wearing group. Betty noticed many had a large snake – a cobra – on the back of their jackets.

“Are those the Serpents?” whispered Veronica as they joined the ticket line. Her eyes lingered on the embroidered snake.

Kevin nodded, throat tight.

“What are they doing here?” asked Veronica, derision tingeing her voice, as she took in their rough appearances: dirty robes, ripped jeans, and heavy dragon-hide combat boots. Someone in the crowd made a joke, and in response, the rest burst out into loud, raucous laughter.

Betty twirled a strand of hair around a finger and the line inched forward. “Probably the same as us.” At Veronica’s quizzical brow raise, she tilted her chin towards a smaller group bunched closer to the barn entrance. “They’re younger, see? They probably go to the smaller, local magical schools or never got invites to Hogwarts.”

“People _don’t_ go to Hogwarts?” asked Veronica in shock.

Kevin shook his head, eyeing the smaller group. “Hogwarts is for legacies, or those who can pay the tuition. I think the Potters set up a few scholarships for orphans and the like.”

The shocked look on Veronica’s face had Kevin and Betty crack a smile.

“Don’t look so shocked,” said Betty, smiling but it was bitter, as was her tone. “The Wars might be over, but things haven’t changed that much. We’re not _that_ progressive.”

The line shuffled forward some more, then Betty was purchasing three tickets for them, and they were inside.

The entrance foyer was small – there were two circular wrought-iron staircases on either end leading to the second floor – and directly in front of the entrance was another set of sliding doors that opened into the ground floor of the theatre. The top floor had small, four-person boxes along the sides facing the screen and a balcony with a few rows, split by a contained projection booth. Below, the orchestra was a steep collection of comfortable seats in red felt facing a stage and white screen.

Veronica immediately moved off to the other side, Kevin and Betty behind her and with a grin over her shoulder, she said, “My treat – one of everything.”

Then Kevin and Veronica raced each other up the winding staircase, arms heavily loaded with their drinks and snacks. The metal creaked ominously as Betty followed at a sedate pace, hands tightly gripping the rail. She found her two friends waiting for her at the top, down the left-side balcony, giggling.

Betty rolled her eyes.

Kevin found an empty box nearer to the back of the balcony, with a good view of the screen, and settled into one of the two front seats. Veronica dropped down next to him, the cushion letting out a tired wheeze. Betty sat in the third seat, in the back row. They piled their discarded coats onto the fourth, the empty seat in the box.

The soft murmurs of movie patrons began to fill the theatre. Kevin sighed and stretched his arms above his head as he slouched.

“This is an _excellent_ way to spend a Saturday night,” he said happily.

“Well, it’s the last one,” sighed Betty unhappily, “the last hurrah of the Twilight Theatre.”

“Ugh,” interrupted Veronica, bringing her friends’ attention to her. She pointed one manicured finger at the balcony behind them, where the younger Serpents began filling the rows, all the while laughing loudly or tossing popcorn at each other.

“Ignore them,” said Betty quietly.

“It’s not worth it,” agreed Kevin.

Veronica huffed, crossing her arms but kept quiet. The lights began to dim, and the screen flickering – and Betty knew at that moment, where Jughead was. There was an anticipated hush in the theatre, then the Warner Bros. logo appeared along with the music, and then James Dean stumbled onto the screen and fell to the sidewalk, smiling goofily at a cymbal monkey toy while his name appeared in red in the opening credits.

Later, once the plot began, Natalie Wood asked James Dean, “ _You wanna carry my books_?”

“ _I got my car – you wanna go with me_?” replied James Dean, eyes squinting down at the green cardigan wearing young woman.

Natalie Wood smirked back, and in front of her, Betty could see Kevin mouthing along with the iconic line: “ _I go with the Kids_.”

He sighed. “That hair.”

Veronica grinned, taking a bite out of her red Twizzler and swinging it around. “That jacket.”

Loud laughter broke the ambiance of the scene, echoed by the laughter and shrieks of the characters in the car on the screen, and Kevin frowned, turning in his seat to look behind them. The Serpents sat spread out across the seats, taking up as much room as possible with their legs stretched out over the seats in front of them in indulgence.

“They’ve been doing that since the opening credits,” whispered Veronica back, turning, and leaning around Kevin to see the group. One, with chin-length hair, looked back at her and Kevin, gave them a long, searching look, and winked.

Frustrated, Kevin hissed loudly at them, “ _Sssshh_!”

The Serpents broke into laughter and several replied.

“Screw off!”

“Nice haircut, you dweeb.”

Veronica’s cheek twitched and Betty watched in awe and horror as she stood and turned. She perched on the folding cushion of the seat, hands gripping the back of the seat, and snarled at the group, “ _Hey_! You know what happens to a snake when a Louis Vuitton heel steps on it? Shut the hell up, or you'll find out!”

From across in the other boxes, there came approving whistles; someone in the orchestra began applauding, and another cheered, “You go, girl!”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “I cannot believe you just threatened them.”

Veronica shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse at Durmstrang. I just hate when people disrespect my cinematic experience.”

Kevin stared at Veronica. “You are my new hero.”

“Well, as your hero, how about a refill?” asked Veronica, shaking her empty drink so that the ice inside rattled.

Kevin rolled his eyes, but stood. Betty stood with him, speaking at Veronica’s prompting look, “I’ll go with Kev to keep him company, but then I think I’m going to go to the projection booth and see Jug.”

Veronica wriggled a bit in her seat. “Ooo, a lover’s meet up in the private sanctity of a darkened projection booth? I’m all for it, B.”

“Shut up, V,” laughed Betty, shoving the back of her theatre seat playfully. She pushed aside the privacy curtain and led Kevin down the aisle and stairs, standing with him as he reached the front of the line.

“Can I get a refill? And some gummy worms and a cola?” he asked, and Betty leaned against the wall at his side, looking out at the foyer. A few Hogwarts students were standing around, and a couple was getting serious against the far wall, their hands wandering with his slipping under the girls’ skirt.

Betty nudged Kevin, and he glanced back at her before looking where she indicated. He scowled, and turned back to the spotty young wizard behind the counter. “Ugh, who am I trying to impress? And a hot dog?”

The wizard looked behind him and said, in a nasally voice, “We’re out of dogs.”

Kevin’s scowl deepened. “Figures.”

“Lighten up,” said Betty quietly. Beside them, the staircase creaked as someone began heavily walking down it. “You’ve got us with you tonight.”

He sighed, handing over a golden coin and some Sickles to the attendant. “True – the two prettiest girls at Hogwarts.”

Betty gave him a soft smile. “You’ll find someone, Kev. Promise.”

She glanced down at the counter, where the spotty attendant pushed over a few bags of candy and the refilled drink. “Are you going to be okay carrying those back up to V?”

Kevin nodded, sliding his wand out from his shirtsleeve and began shrinking the candy packages. He then stuffed them in his zip-up pockets.

“Go on,” he urged with a gentle shoulder nudge. “Go see Casanova and tell him I say hi.”

Betty grinned, and then turned towards the stairs, where someone was carefully walking down. As she reached the base, she stood politely to the side as they reached the bottom. It was one of the younger Serpents who was sitting at the back of the balcony, the one with the chin-length black hair.

He wasn’t much taller than her, and his face was apathetic – if not polite – as when he reached the bottom of the steps. He nodded at her, referencing her waiting until the stairs were clear. His leather jacket creaked as he brushed by, but he was careful to not bump into her.

Curiously, she glanced back as he walked toward the concession stand and where Kevin was shoving the last of the candy into his pockets. But, she then began walking up the stairs, mind flopping between how she should greet Jughead. Would she say a cool ‘hi’ or greet him with a shy smile and ‘hello’?

Betty stopped in front of the projector booth door, staring at it for a moment. She took a deep breath, knocked, and then swung it open.

Jughead was sitting next to the projector, elbows on his knees with one hand propping up his chin as he watched the film through the small window into the theatre. His expression was pensive, if not lonely, as the flickering light from the projector caught his face.

“Jug?” asked Betty softly.

He glanced over at the door. “Betty.”

Then, his eyes widened, darting back and forth. He abruptly stood, and yelped, “Betty!”

 _Jeez, what’s the matter with him?_ She thought with a tiny frown, stepping further into the projection booth, looking around. There was a tiny cot pressed against the wall opposite the projector, covered in a thin sheet and at its base, a small kerosene stove with a kettle on top. There were film posters tacked on the walls, and reels of film stacked high on multiple shelves.

He shifted awkwardly between his feet, peering at her nervously from under a lock of curly black hair that escaped his beanie. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied – a firm compromise between the shy ‘hello’ and the cool ‘hi.’

He turned towards the cot, brushing crumbs off it and straightening the single sheet. She took the unsaid invitation and sat on the edge, feeling the hard frame dig into the bottom of her thighs. Jughead, in return, stood awkwardly before grabbing the projectionist’s chair and turning it around to face her.

“So...” he started, sitting.

“So,” she echoed, clasping her hands together and then digging them between her thighs to keep from curling them.

Jughead chuckled nervously. “Pretty crazy last night, right?”

Betty blinked. “Oh – with Archie, you mean.” She bit her lip. “You... didn’t hear?”

Jughead frowned. “Heard what?”

“Grundy was arrested by Auror Keller this morning,” said Betty quietly, eyes dipping down. “Archie went home with his dad for the weekend.”

Jughead let out an explosive breath, rocking back in his chair a bit. “Wow. No. No, I didn’t know.”

They fell silent.

Finally, Betty ventured, “You... you knew. About Archie and Professor Grundy?”

Jughead winced. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Betty looked up in surprise.

“I – uh – I saw them together once, when school started,” he explained. “I confronted him and it... didn’t go so well.”

Betty stifled a snort. Given how tense her confrontations with Archie had been over the same topic, she could only imagine how it would’ve been with the two of them, when they weren’t even friends at the time.

He leaned back a bit in the chair, eyeing her. “He was worried that once you knew, you’d write something about it for the Black and Gold.”

“ _What_?” Betty gapped. “I would...? About – him? And _her_?”

Jughead sent a wry grin her way, but there was something off in his eyes. “Yeah, I told him he was being stupid. You? Hurt Archie Andrews? Deliberately? That would be the same day the world ends.”

Betty’s eyes flicked away from Jughead, glancing through the small viewing window to watch James Dean and Corey Allen posture around Natalie Wood, Allen bringing out his switchblade outside the observatory.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked instead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug.

“It’s Archie, isn’t it?” there was something sad – or bitter – in his tone. “We both love the goofball, and can’t stand to see him get hurt.”

She sighed, agreeing. She then pulled her hands out from between her legs and scratched nervously on one of her knees.

 _Merlin, things have never been this awkward before with Jug,_ she thought miserably. Was it all because of the Archie/Grundy situation? Or had to all been building since their kiss and his visit to her room and the “it’s a date” that never happened?

Was it because she hadn’t made a move? Hadn’t said anything to him? Was it because she was angry _he_ didn’t make a move? But she told Veronica and Kevin she wanted to go a bit slower – what if she had gone _too_ slow? Did Jughead think she was leading him on? _Was_ she leading him on?

The thoughts continued to build and swirl in her hands, and her hands began to clench on her lap. Face bright red, she bowed her chin and blurted –

“I’m sorry!”

–except her voice wasn’t the only one.

Her head snapped up, and her wide eyes met Jughead’s. He too, looked startled, if only for a moment before an easy smirk settled on his lips.

“What are you sorry for?” asked Betty incredulously. “ _I_ was the one who was mad at you about keeping Archie’s secret. _I_ wasn’t able to make time to find you so we could go figure out Dilton’s confession together – we had to do it separately.”

“I should’ve told you – or someone – about Archie,” replied Jughead. “I knew it was wrong, and I confronted him about it, but you... you actually did something.”

Betty shook her head. “It was really Kev and V. They owled Kev’s father and kept me completely out of it.”

Jughead looked vaguely approving at the idea of keeping Betty out of it – which she thought strange for a moment and then heat bloomed across her face. She shifted a bit on the cot and then asked, with forced enthusiasm, “What’s next on our murder board?”

Gratefully taking the segue into a new topic, Jughead seemed to relax. “Well, other than knowing what Grundy tells Auror Keller, she’s pretty much beyond our reach now. That leaves us with very little to move forward.”

“Not necessarily,” said Betty. “I still haven’t spoken to Wendy.”

“Wendy?”

“Wendy Weatherbee,” she said, moving her hands behind her on the cot to prop herself up. “Pol’s best friend. She might know something about where Polly went – or something about Jason.”

Jughead nodded. “So when should we do that?”

“You still want to help?” asked Betty, brightly and sitting up straight.

Jughead gave her a strange look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Betty bit her lower lip. “Well... you kind of... um, we – that is...”

“Betts, spit it out,” said Jughead, looking very amused.

She flushed red and mumbled, “It seemed like you were avoiding me at one point, and then we went off did investigations on our own... so I’m not really sure if you’re doing this for your book or what.”

Jughead stilled, and then Betty saw his ears go red as he stiffened in embarrassment. “Oh. Well. Um...”

 _Oh, Merlin._ Heat suffused Betty and she immediately didn’t want to hear it – she knew what he was going to say. She read the situation wrong and he wasn’t interested – the kiss was nice but it didn’t mean anything – she couldn’t stand the rejection of her other male best friend, not after developing a crush on him, too.

“I was thinking that we could track down Wendy on Monday? She’s usually in the library studying for her NEWTs,” rambled Betty, eyes firmly fixed on the freckle just on Jughead’s cheek.

Jughead sputtered a response that died on his lips. Filtered through the speakers and _Sonorous_ charm in the theatre, Corey Allen’s character spoke with fatalistic overtones to James Dean, “You gotta do _something_ , now don’t you?”

“Betts,” he finally said, slowly. She stubbornly continued to look at his cheek.

“Picking _Rebel Without a Cause_ was a great idea,” she continued blithely, smiling despite the turmoil she felt fluttering madly in her stomach. Her eyes met his then, and she nearly gasped at the emotion she spotted.

“It was your suggestion,” he finally said, after searching her eyes for – something. Betty wasn’t sure what, but he saw what he was looking for –or not – and then let her change the topic.

“But it is one of your favourite films,” countered Betty, the ease of familiarity falling between them and sweeping her nerves away. She began to relax. “I only thought of it because I was thinking of you.”

A tiny, sincere smile crept onto Jughead’s lips at her words. Her brows puckered as she thought over what she just said, and then she struggled not to flush.

“C’mon,” offered Jughead, standing and holding a hand out to her, to pull her up. “I’ll cast _engorgio_ on the chair and we can both sit in and watch the rest of the film.”

Betty took his hand. Sparks – figuratively – ran up her arm at the contact and she sucked in a deep, quick breath in response.

Jughead’s tiny smile crept a bit wider, and his hand tightened around hers. He then yanked, gently, pulling her to her feet. His other hand came up to hold her steady when the momentum pushed her forward.

“You do the chair, and I’ll grab the pillow,” she said instead, avoiding his eyes. She turned, picking up the pillow on the cot and was immediately overwhelmed with Jughead’s scent, as recognizable to her as her own face.

When she turned around, he had enlarged the chair into a small loveseat, barely big enough for the two of them. He blushed crimson at her look.

“It won’t be safe to make it any larger,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can stand, if you want...?”

“It’s fine, Juggie,” said Betty, dumping the pillow against the back of the chair-turned-sofa. She then initiated contact and pulled him next to her (ensuring he was next to the projector), and then with a firm pull, they collapsed into the chair together. Their combined weight made the spelled chair groan, and the two laughed.

Betty turned her body to face Jughead, and rested her head on his shoulder, as well as tilted her right leg up over her left to graze his jean-clad leg. Jughead tentatively lifted his arm and let it drape along the back of the loveseat, his fingers just barely skimming her shoulder.

Eventually, their cuddle became more natural, and by the final scene – the businessman walking up to his mansion – Betty had pressed her side against Jughead’s and hooked her right leg over his. In turn, he had his hand tucking her firmly against him, cupping her shoulder.

Betty yawned.

“I’d best get back to our box before the credits finish,” she said regretfully. She stood and stretched, the hem of her sweater riding up a bit. “I’ll see you Monday in Lit?”

Jughead’s eyes jumped to hers quickly from her middle. She smothered a smile.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Lit.” He frowned. “You’re not in Hogwarts tomorrow?”

Betty shook her head. “No, my mom is making me stay home this weekend – after... um, I might have told her off in front of everyone.”

At Jughead’s look, she continued sheepishly, “And Mr. Andrews. And Professor Longbottom. And Auror Keller.”

Jughead whistled. “Will I need to rescue you at some point tomorrow? To make sure fair Juliet isn’t under lock and key by her Capulet brethren?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” she said with a smile. “But I’ll owl you tomorrow anyway.”

Jughead’s eyes lit up. “Coded? After all, we don’t want Mrs. Cooper _in the know_ , so to speak.”

Betty grinned. “All right – coded. How about, if everything is fine, I’ll tell you everything is fine and you trust me.”

“And if it’s not?” asked Jughead, the tiny smirk on his face slipping into a serious press of his lips into a straight line.

Betty thought for a moment and said, “The Three Broomsticks ran out of burgers.”

A surprised laugh erupted from his mouth before he had time to censor it. “Now that _is_ a tragedy.”

“And for you?”

He frowned, a questioning look on his face. Betty’s eyes traced his face, lingering on the faint smudges under his eyes. “Don’t lie to me and say that you’ve been fine, Juggie. I can see you’re stressed and something is bothering you.”

At those words, his eyes canted to the pillow still on the enlarged chair, and then to the cot in the corner of the projection booth.

“You need a code, too,” she finished softly.

Something passed across his face – too quick for her to identify – and then his mask, the little satisfied smirk he wore, greeted her. “If I ever need help – not that I do, Betts, you understand that, right? – but if I did, I’d tell you...”

He leaned forward, angling his body so that his lips brushed her ear, his breath ticking the hairs that escaped her ponytail. “ _Show me a hero, and I’ll write you a tragedy_.”

*

Veronica was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the rickety wrought iron stairs, tapping her expensive heeled foot, her coat already shrugged on but open. She had Betty’s coat in one arm, while her other hand was on her hip.

“ _There_ you are!” she exclaimed as Betty stepped off the stairs. Her mouth was puckered in annoyance, but her eyes were curiously looking beyond Betty to see if Jughead would follow.

“Sorry,” apologized Betty automatically, “But you knew I was going to be with Jughead for the rest of the film.”

“You, yes,” agreed Veronica coolly, eyes looking around the tiny lobby. “But where did Kev go?”

Betty frowned. “ _Kev?_ I thought he was with you. He bought all the candy and refilled the drink when I left him.”

The two girls shared worried looks. Veronica thrust Betty’s coat at her, and the two then stepped outside the theatre. There was a slowly thinning crowd as witches and wizards either Apparated away, or the younger crowd began to meander back to Hogwarts through Hogsmeade.

As the crowd parted, they saw Kevin, running his hands through his messy hair and a lopsided grin on his face as he walked towards the theatre.

The two girls stared at him; Betty’s mouth wide-open while Veronica’s perfect eyebrows began to inch higher and higher the closer he came to them.

“Betty,” he greeted cheerfully. “Ronnie.”

“My, my,” Veronica said, looking him up and down. “At first I was pissed that my two besties left me alone for the film, but now I see that I need to re-evaluate. B spent time with our resident Severus Snape—”

Betty made a face. “Can we not?”

“—while _you_ , dear Kev,” continued Veronica smoothly, “look positively like the kneazle who caught the snitch. _Do tell_.”

Kevin winked. “A man’s gotta have some secrets.”

Veronica squealed in happiness, latching onto Kevin’s arm as Betty hurried to his other side, and the three began to walk back to Kevin’s house. “Tell me _everything_ – what is he like? What’s his name? Is he tall? Is he handsome? What House is he in? _Does he go to Hogwarts?_ ” she gasped. “Is he _older_?”

Kevin mimed zipping his lips; all the while avoiding Veronica’s increasingly bizarre questions about the man, he had spent over forty minutes with, leaving her alone. By the time they reached Kevin’s house, his father had just Apparated in, appearing with a loud _pop_ to their left, close to the trees.

“Hello, kids,” he greeted amiably. He shook off his Auror robes in a habitual motion.

“Hi dad,” greeted Kevin, speaking for the first time in nearly fifteen minutes. “Where did you go off to?”

“The Ministry,” he replied, leading the three teenagers towards the front door. As they stepped on the gravel path leading to the main door, a few hanging lights under the front porch flickered on automatically – or, _magically,_ thought Betty with a stifled laugh.

“How’d you like the movie?” he asked, changing the subject.

Kevin grinned, although his father didn’t see it. Veronica poked him in the arm and he absently rubbed at it. “It was... quite the twist ending.”

“Is everything all right at the Ministry, Auror Keller?” asked Betty kindly.

“Oh, everything's fine, Betty,” he said, turning to face the three with what he hoped was a kind smile. “I was going over the Jason Blossom case, again. See if I missed anything with the new information we got from Grundy.”

“New information?” Betty perked up at this, and Auror Keller made a face.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled lowly, just as the three behind him shared conspirator’s grins. He stepped onto the front porch. “Best you all forget I—”

Auror Keller froze.

“Dad?” asked Kevin, slowly.

Immediately, the Head Auror wiped out his wand from his wand holster, his form still and taunt in the night. Behind him, the three nervously drew their wands. Auror Keller moved slowly forward and used the tip of his wand to push open the unlocked and ajar front door.

He eased through the opening, wand held high and ready to slash down in a defensive spell, his eyes sweeping back and forth through the dark house.

Kevin and Betty followed, with Veronica behind, moving down the hallway and to the left, towards Auror Keller’s office.

The Head Auror swore, loudly and creatively, and then stormed from the office and to the living room. Bright green light spilled into the hallway, indicating that the Floo connection was active. The three shared a look, listening curiously, as he shouted, “Ministry of Magic - Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Kevin turned and entered the office, only to stop in his tracks. “Oh, Merlin...”

The far wall, which held a corkboard of Auror Keller’s findings and clues regarding the Jason Blossom murder, was ripped apart. Many of the photos were missing or ripped down, leaving parts still tacked through permanent sticking charms. His filing cabinet was pulled open and the loose parchment from the files inside was torn apart or in messy disarray.

Someone had broken into the Keller household and destroyed the evidence of the murder board the Head Auror was using to conduct his investigation.

*

TBC...

 


	10. Polly Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins the divergence of canon.... little changes here make big changes later.

*

X: Polly Problems

*

“Many of my movies have strong female leads – brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe with all their heart. They’ll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a savior. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man.”

― Hayao Miyazaki

*

Betty arrived home just 10 minutes past midnight, and therefore ten minutes past her curfew, that Saturday night.

Her parents were waiting up for her, in the living room; her mother’s arms crossed over her shiny peacock blue robes and her father stood next to the fireplace, hands tucked into his Muggle jeans.

“Do you know what time it is?” asked Alice Cooper crossly.

 _Well, she hasn’t forgotten this morning_ , thought Betty tiredly.

“Just a bit past midnight,” Betty replied, blinking her heavy eyes. “I know. And I know I’m late home. But you can speak with Auror Keller if you want to know why.”

“Auror Keller?” repeated Hal Cooper, standing straight and looking over his daughter from head to toe. “Betty, what happened?”

“Dad, I’m tired,” said Betty. She did her best to abort a yawn that began. “I’m— _ahhh_ , I’ve been busy at Kevin’s house. Someone broke in and took all the information Auror Keller had about Jason’s death.”

“What?” blurted Alice, just as Hal stood straight and frowned, putting on his ‘thinking’ face as Betty and Polly used to call it.

Tiredly, Betty moved into the living room and practically fell onto the couch, sagging and relaxing her posture to such a degree that, under other circumstances, would have her mother snap at her. She rubbed the palms of her hands over her eyes and cheeks.

“It’s just like I said – everything Auror Keller had at the house regarding Jason’s death is missing or destroyed,” she said.

“Does he have any idea who might have done it?” asked Hal, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

Betty shook her head. “Nothing yet; we left when Aurors from the Ministry arrived through the Floo.” She paused. “But it’s likely someone who they suspect killed Jason, I guess. I mean, why else would they destroy the evidence?”

“Speaking about guilty parties, young lady,” began Alice, and Betty physically cringed, scooping herself further into the back of couch.

“Alice,” warned Hal quietly, “We don’t need to do this now.”

“Oh, yes we do, Hal,” retorted Alice sharply, turning her eyes from her husband to her daughter. “Would you care to explain what happened this morning, Betty?”

Betty swallowed and did her best to resist fidgeting under her mother’s direct stare, with eerie green eyes so similar to hers.

 _Merlin, they look like the Killing Curse come to life,_ Betty thought and shivered.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“ _God_ , mom!” Betty finally said, reverting to her father’s Muggle expletive, something she had heard Polly do often enough when fighting with their Pureblood mother.

Alice sucked in a loud breath through pinched lips.

“What? What do you want me to say?” the younger blonde in the room bit out. “I already told you: I will never stop being friends with Archie. Or with Veronica! I don’t know what you have against them, but I am _so tired_ of you constantly driving my life and telling me what I can or can’t do!”

Something heady was rising within her – a burning hot coal, deep in her belly; a flickering flame of Fiendfyre that once nurtured, once let go, would burn everything in its path.

Hal’s eyes were bouncing between his wife and his youngest daughter, but his form was hunched in – like he wasn’t quite sure what his next move would be and to see someone with such a large, burly body slump was disconcerting.

“ _Elizabeth_ ,” her mother hissed out her name like her old House emblem. “You are _my_ daughter and I can _absolutely_ tell you what you can or cannot do.”

“Is that what you told Polly, too?” shouted Betty, rising to her feet in a sudden surge, anger propelling her words. Her hands were tightly clenched and the pain grounded her. “I seem to remember that she did everything right too and then suddenly it wasn’t enough and _you sent her away_!”

“Polly didn’t do everything right!” shouted back Alice, her own form solid and quivering slightly in anger, like a cobra about to strike.

Hal shifted and Betty saw him slip his wand from his wrist holster to his palm.

“Oh, so your daughter falls off the pedestal you placed her on and then it’s all ‘out of sight, out of mind’?” jeered Betty. “Where will you send me, mom, when I inevitably fall, too?”

Alice breathed heavily and then –

“ _Immobulus_ ,” Hal intoned, his wand pointed at Alice, who, although frozen, was able to turn her eyes on her husband. If looks could kill, he would’ve been six feet under. He then turned his wand to his daughter, and said, wearily, “You’re not going anywhere, Betty.”

“ _Then where’s Polly_?” she wailed.

Silence descended in the Cooper living room.

Hal flicked his wand, and Alice shuddered and curled in on herself briefly, before turning to glare at her husband. She didn’t speak; instead, she pinched her lips so tightly together the edges turned white, and then, with a glare at her daughter as well, she turned to the fireplace. She grabbed a pinch of green Floo powder left in a pot on the mantle specifically for Floo travel, tossed it into the burning fireplace and waited for the flames to turn green.

As soon as it did, she stepped in, speaking clearly, “Selwyn Manor!” and disappeared in swirl of her blue robes.

Hal gapped for a minute or two, and then shook his head. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, and collapsed into one of the two armchairs that faced the couch.

Betty gave a shuddered breath and, tentatively, asked, “Can we please talk about it? What happened? What did Jason do that was so bad?”

Hal tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a minute or two, and Betty wondered if he had even heard her.

Finally, he said, “Jason and Polly had a fight. I don’t know what it was about, but afterwards, Polly was pretty devastated.”

“When did they fight?” asked Betty, moving to sit back on the couch, gingerly sitting on the edge.

“Right after their exams,” sighed Hal, bringing his head down to face Betty. She was surprised at how tired her father looked, and how the now yellow-orange fire reflected off the grey in his hair.

“One day, I came home from work and I... I heard the water running in the bathroom upstairs,” he continued, sighing deeply and looking into the fire, caught in his memories. “I went upstairs, I knocked on the door, I asked if Polly was all right, and... She didn’t say anything.”

“Dad... no,” breathed Betty.

“So I kicked the door down,” said Hal, his voice falling flat and monotone. He then turned to face Betty, full-on and his eyes alight with a strange intensity. “Polly was trying to hurt herself, Betty. That’s why we sent her away – to stop her from trying to take her own life again.”

Betty’s hand fluttered at her sides, unsure to curl themselves into fists or not. “But... Pol wouldn’t do that.”

“You didn’t see her, Betty,” said Hal quietly. “You didn’t see her that day.”

“But... why send her away? Why can’t I _see her_ , dad?” protested Betty.

“Because you don’t want to see her like that,” he replied, his voice falling flat. “And until she’s recovered, I don’t want you to see her. She needs... time.”

Betty stared at her father. _That doesn’t sound like my sister – but now isn’t the time to push_.

Instead, she sniffed and asked, “D’you think mom will come home tonight?”

Hal snorted. “Your mother? No. Not at all. That woman’s got her fair share of stubbornness and pride the size of the galaxy. She’ll be back tomorrow morning but she’s sure as hell going to make my life difficult for the next few days.”

“I hate it, dad,” whispered Betty, looking down at her hands. “I hate how she makes me feel.”

His eyes softened as they took in his youngest daughter, and given their shared interests, his favourite (although he would never admit that out loud). “I’ve really failed you and Polly, haven’t I, Betty?”

Betty turned her head, looking out through the bay window at the front of the house, behind her father. They had not drawn the curtains, but all Betty could see what darkness and the back of her father’s reflection on the glass.

She didn’t have an answer for him.

*

Somehow, Betty and Kevin managed to coordinate ‘releases’ from their parents that weekend to return back to Hogwarts early, meeting outside of Betty’s house and quickly walking through Hogsmeade and past the train station. The walk from the station to the main gates wasn’t too long, but in the growing chill of autumn, it felt much longer than they anticipated.

When they arrived, their fingers and noses were red-tipped, but Archie and Veronica met them in the entrance hall.

“Jug’s already in the Black and Gold office,” said Archie, his voice dimmer than usual, and his face pale. However, his eyes were no longer red-rimmed from tears, and he held himself rigid.

The walk to the office was quiet, the four not speaking for fear of being overheard by curious portraits or unseen ghosts.

Jughead was sitting on top of one of the desks pushed together to create a conference table in the middle of the room, cross-legged, and facing their murder board. He turned his head to look at them when they entered, a pensive look on his face.

Betty sat next to Jughead, while Archie remained standing, arms crossed, next to her. His hip was cocked and leaning against the desks of the conference table, his jaw jutting slightly forward in a mulish expression. Veronica stood with her back to the ajar door and a bit distant from the conference table, but still able to see the wall with the board.

Kevin went straight to the board and the desk below it where there were extra slips of parchment and a quill. He began writing on some of the slips, and then pinning them on the wall. Once he finished, he stepped back and positioned himself opposite Veronica; the five of them loosely formed a C.

“This is how my dad had his Jason Blossom murder board before it was trashed,” said Kevin, nodding as his eyes finished roaming over the corkboard. “He added some more bits about Grundy that we didn’t know until we got her file – like her original name, her teaching license being a fake, her OWLs and NEWTs.”

Betty frowned and crossed her legs, leaning back on her hands. “Any leads on who did that? Or what they were looking for?”

Kevin shook his head. “Nope. No fingerprints, no wand trace, no Floo powder, nothing. But they stole a bunch of files, background checks, and all the memories of police interviews dad had in bottles for the Ministry pensieve.”

“So, are you guys suspects now?” asked Archie. “I mean, you were there when he discovered it but were at the Twilight, so that should be a solid alibi.”

Kevin grimaced. “My dad says we all are, including me.”

Veronica gave a tiny snorted laugh. “Not me, girl. I don’t know these people. I wasn’t here when the original deed happened. _No connections_.”

Realizing that Veronica was feeling a bit too smug about that fact, Kevin turned his attention to the three he knew better. He jokingly asked, “Guys, maybe we should re-binge _Making a Murderer_ on Netflix at Archie’s sometime this week for ideas?”

When no one replied, he gave a tiny moue of displeasure. “Or... too soon?”

Archie shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t – I’ve got some Quidditch plans that need ironing out for our game this weekend.”

“Gotta stay late to work on the paper,” replied Jughead, glancing quickly at Betty beside him with a tiny smirk. “My new boss is a bit of a taskmaster.”

Betty nudged his shoulder lightly with hers, and smiled back at him. She then turned to Kevin and said, apologetically, “Count me out, too – I’ll be in the library.”

“I’ve got a date tonight,” said Veronica lightly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“You do?” asked Kevin incredulously. At her look, he cleared his throat and asked, mildly, “Which Hogwarts hottie made the cut?”

As he finished his question, a knock on the partially open door caught their attention, and Veronica turned around to face it just as it swung further open. A face poked their head in, eyes surveying the group coolly, before lighting on the object of their attention.

“Hey, Vee-Lo. I’ll swing by Hufflepuff to pick you up at eight?” asked Chuck Clayton, a tall Slytherin Quidditch player with muscles and a strong body.

Veronica smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”

He grinned, his teeth very white against his dark skin. “Cool.”

He then turned on his heel, leaving the door open far wider than it had been when Veronica entered last earlier.

“ _Chuck Clayton_?” a heavily disgusted voice asked with derision.

Betty surprised at the tone her friend adopted, turned her body to look at Jughead. She was not the only one; Archie had dropped his arms at his friends’ tone, and even Kevin’s mouth had dropped open.

Veronica frowned, her eyebrows popping up into an expression of ‘oh no you didn’t’ and before she could say anything, Betty jumped into the conversation, eager to divert Veronica’s attention from Jughead to her.

“You’re going on a date with Chuck?” she asked carefully, flicking her eyes to Archie, who also looked disappointed. “He’s kind of a player.”

“Who cares? He’s the hottest of hot, and he’s a Quidditch captain and the Quidditch coach’s son,” countered Kevin, with a dismissive hand wave. “At Hogwarts, that’s like dating a Malfoy.” He paused, realizing how that sounded. “Okay, more like a Potter.”

The disgusted look hadn’t faded from Jughead’s face at all – instead, he looked a bit ill.

 _Okay, this is more than disapproval for her date choice_ , thought Betty. She knew Jughead wasn’t attracted to Veronica that way, so his look wasn’t carrying the same weight she was beginning to suspect Archie’s was, but something definitely made Jughead deeply revolted by the idea of his fellow Slytherin.

 “Well, be careful, V,” cautioned Betty slowly. She uncrossed her legs and slid off the desk. “Do you want some company while getting ready tonight? I can head to the library now instead.”

Veronica brightened. “That would be great. Be back for dinner, B? And then we’ll go to the dorm after.”

Betty nodded. “Sure!” she then turned her head to her left and caught Jughead’s shuttered gaze. “Walk me to the library, Jug?”

He nodded stiffly and stood, his silence a heavy weight on the group who could physically _feel_ his unhappiness.

Betty attempted a tiny smile, and lifted her hand to wriggle her fingers at her friends. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Kevin and Veronica chorused out cheery goodbyes while Archie grunted something, and then the two were outside the Black and Gold and walking towards the library at the other end of the castle.

She let him stew in his silence for several minutes, until they were halfway to the library. Then, she burst out, “All right – spill. What was that about? What made you hate Chuck like that? I know he’s a player and an ass, but still. That was extreme, especially for you, Jughead.”

Jughead stopped in his tracks, looking down at Betty from her side with an unreadable expression on his face. “I couldn’t tell you.”

Betty huffed. “C’mon, Jug, you know I won’t judge you.” She rolled her eyes. “And for someone who’s really into writing, it lacked the elegance I was expecting.”

Jughead pressed his lips together and said, firmly, “No, Betts. I literally _can’t tell you_.”

Betty blinked. Then blinked once more  and – then it hit her. Horror spread through her body.

_He’s taken an Unbreakable Vow, or participated in a Blood Oath to keep a secret about Chuck._

“Merlin, Juggie,” she breathed, eyes darting all over his face, reading the exhaustion on it and his solemn countenance. “What—”

He shook his head. “It’s not life or death, Betts. I just can’t talk about or explain why I...” his face twisted. “ _Dislike_ him so much. And it has nothing to do with you. I just...” he shuddered.

“But, Juggie...!” Betty protested, lifting a hand to grab onto his arm.

“I voluntarily took the oath,” said Jughead quietly, looking into her eyes. “Back in my first year, Betty. Now...” he cleared his throat, standing straight again and adopting a lofty tone. “I presume we’re going to the library because that’s where a Miss Wendy Weatherbee will be at this hour?”

Betty, startled by the change in topic, nodded mutely.

“Excellent,” continued Jughead, including the tone. “Permission to follow up, Sarge?”

Despite the lingering horror of knowing that Jughead was tied to a blood oath – something he had done at _eleven_ – Betty felt the corner of her lips turn up at his jest.

“Oh, no follow up here, Inspector,” she teased back lightly, “we’re going in to this as partners.”

Jughead’s smirk transformed into the tiny smile she knew as true, and her heart fluttered. They continued walking to the library, still in silence, but it was different. Before, it was a loaded, heavy silence that weighed on her, Betty now felt this silence was companionable and light-hearted.

“Is there a game plan for interrogating Weatherbee?” asked Jughead in a low tone as they entered the library.

Madam Pince looked up, with her perpetual harried expression of people invading her inner sanctum, and gave the two a dirty look – although it was mostly focused on Jughead, who winced.

Betty sniggered.

None of the students – mainly fifth and seventh year Ravenclaws, or other studious seventh years from other houses – looked up, far too engrossed in their reading material.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled, but there was a happy glint in his blue gaze as his eyes roved over her.

Betty cleared her throat with a soft wheeze. “Yeah... ask her about a fight Pol and Jason had just after exams.”

“Couples get into fights all the time,” said Jughead dismissively, if not sourly. They eased around a group of fifth year Gryffindors, and then down one of the rows of books, having not spotted their quarry at any of the worktables.

“Yes, but apparently this one was enough for Polly to attempt suicide,” retorted Betty with her own dash of bitter.

Jughead stopped walking, and Betty passed by him, leading the way towards the back of the library and closer to the Restricted Section.

He quickly loped after her with long limbs, and stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. “Betty, I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes conveying his worry for her sister. “That’s hardcore.”

Her voice trembled a bit as she continued. “I asked my dad if I could visit Polly – or even Floo her! But he said she was doing better.”

“... You don’t seem to believe that,” replied Jughead quietly.

Betty rolled her bottom lip into her mouth, and she shook her head ‘no’. “He said that when she heard about Jason’s death, she had a big setback, and he doesn’t want to risk another one. But...”

“But?” prompted Jughead.

She turned her head up to face him. “Polly wouldn’t do that. And the worst things is... I can’t trust my parents, Jug. I can’t trust them at all.”

He gave her upper arm a gentle squeeze.

With a deep breath, she composed herself and they turned out of one of the bookshelf aisles and into a smaller, quieter workspace much further away from the main body of the library. Wendy sat at one of the small stations, by herself. Wendy was a petite, attractive girl with a short, chin-length bob; the front was dyed red and the rest, her natural hair colour of black. She, like Polly, was a Ravenclaw and studious; but both girls had been drawn to each other by their slightly rebellious natures and extroverted personalities.

“Wendy,” greeted Betty happily, sliding into the seat across from her. Jughead hovered behind.

Wendy’s hazel eyes slid up from the book she was reading to look at her best friends’ little sister, appraising her.

“Betty,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

“I wanted to check in and see how you are,” began Betty carefully. Wendy wasn’t Tomoko, a brash Gryffindor that she could charge into conversations with; she required a bit more finesse.

Wendy’s appraising look did not change, and Betty felt the air move behind her as Jughead shifted nervously.

“Really?” asked Wendy, finally. “Well, I’m fine, Betty. Studying for my NEWTs.”

“Oh,” blinked the blonde, fighting the urge to shift in the chair. “That’s – that’s good.” She bit her lips. “Um....”

“Oh, just spit it out,” said Wendy, rolling her eyes. She pushed her book away. “You’re practically dying to speak to me, Betty; I’ve known you for years now, and I like to think I am intelligent enough to see through...” she eyed Jughead behind her. “ _This_ easily enough.”

Betty flushed and bit her lip. “Right. Sorry. Um, have you spoken to Pol?”

Wendy blinked back at her in surprise. Then, eventually asked in a hard voice, “Are you having me on?”

“I beg your pardon?” replied Betty, confused. Behind her, Jughead leaned closer, and his hand fell on the nape of her neck, a warm, comforting presence.

Wendy stared at Betty for a moment, then threw her quill down and fell back in her chair. “Holy shit. _Ho-ly shit_. You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea?” Betty repeated. “What – Wendy, what do you mean...?” She shook her head. “I spoke to my parents and they said that Pol and Jason got into a fight at the end of last year, after exams. That she tried to kill herself, and that’s why they sent her away. I wanted to ask you about it.”

Wendy’s eyes went round, for a brief moment or two as Betty spoke, and then narrowed into two, tiny slits of anger. “I want to say I can’t believe it, but I totally can. _Merlin_ , your fucking parents, Betty.”

The girl brought her hands up to her face and rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes. She sighed deeply, long.

“Wendy,” whispered Betty. “Please. Where’s Polly? What happened?”

“What happened?” echoed Wendy bitterly. “What happened, Betty, was that Polly and Jason _did_ get into a huge fight – but it was back in April. _Before_ our final exams. It was something enough that spooked Jason for several weeks, and his friends rejoiced, and then in May, Polly and Jason got back together.”

“What was the fight about?” asked Jughead, speaking for the first time, and drawing Wendy’s eyes to him.

She glanced back down at Betty, who nodded, and then spoke directly to Jughead. “I didn’t ask. I have ideas of what it was about, but...” she looked away. “It’s not my place to say.” She then looked back at Betty. “But at _no point_ did Polly feel the need to kill herself! Merlin and Morgana – that girl was in love in Jason Blossom, and nothing was going to change that.”

“So, they lied,” muttered Betty.

“Yeah, Betty,” replied Wendy, some sardonic humour slipping into her tone. “Your parents lied. They do that a lot – Polly knew that, Jason knew that, hell, _I_ knew that.”

“But—”

Wendy leaned forward, over her discarded book and quill. “Betty – Betty, _please understand_. Polly did whatever she could to escape your parents, and as a result, they pushed their expectations on _you_. That always sat poorly with Pol, and she hated it, but she also wanted to live her life the way _she_ wanted.”

Betty sat straight, almost petrified, as Wendy spoke. Jughead’s hand on the back of her neck tightened slightly and then his fingers trailed smoothing strokes, attempting to reassure her. He, too, however stood straight and eyes focused with intensity on Wendy.

The elder girl sighed. “Look – I don’t know where Pol is. The last owl I got from her was at the end of June, after we were let out from Hogwarts.”

“Before I left on my internship,” sighed Betty in acknowledgement. “That was the last I saw of her, too.”

Wendy reached for her quill, and set it back over her notes, signalling an end of the conversation. “Look, Betty – I haven’t heard from Polly either, and I am worried for my best friend. But I also know that whatever happened, wherever she is, it’s because she didn’t have a choice.”

Betty’s mouth settled into a thin line.

“I hope you find her, I really do,” continued Wendy quietly. “But also be aware that if you do start digging into things – well, you might not like what you find out. About Polly, maybe – or your parents.” Wendy quirked her eyebrows. “I mean, your dad is a Muggleborn, but let’s face it – your grandfather was a Death Eater. And that apple doesn’t fall from the tree.”

A short, hot burst to dislike raced through Betty at Wendy’s words. Behind her, Jughead’s hand tightened on her nape, and she could feel it tremble when he loosened his grip.

Through pinched lips, Betty stood and said, “Thank you for your time, Wendy.”

Wendy nodded, but her eyes were back on her book and notes. Betty stepped away from the chair and moved to Jughead’s side, ready to leave that part of the library and her sister’s friend – one she was beginning to dislike.

“Betty? If you do find Polly, let her know I’m thinking of her, okay?” called Wendy. Her eyes were soft and apologetic when Betty glanced at her over her shoulder. “She’s still my best friend.”

Betty sighed and squashed her inner bitch. “Yeah. Sure, Wendy.”

Jughead placed his hand at her back and guided her through the library stacks. It was warm and comforting, and exactly what she needed.

Once outside the library, he pulled her to the side, off one of the corridors. He kept his hands on her shoulders, but patiently waited for her to speak.

Instead, she exhaled and leaned forward, tipping her body so that her forehead hit his shoulder and rested there. In response, he brought his arms up and drew her in closer to his body.

 _What happened to you, Polly?_ She wondered, taking a shuddering breath in and holding it for a minute as she soaked in Jughead’s warmth.

“Better?” he asked quietly when a few minutes had passed, leaning down to peer at her.

She nodded against his shoulder and stepped back. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“It’s fine.”

Betty reached up and tightened her ponytail. “I’m not really feeling like dinner in the Great Hall tonight. I’m going to just grab something from the kitchen and then go to the dorm.”

“Want me to walk with you?” he offered.

She shook her head. “I think I need some time to digest what I learned from Wendy.”

“You know what she said wasn’t true, right?” said Jughead quietly, looking at her intently. “You’re not your mother. You’re not the child of a Death Eater – no matter how crazy Mrs. C can get.”

Betty smiled weakly at her friend. “You always know the right thing to say.”

“As opposed to always the right thing to do,” he quipped.

Betty frowned. “No. You always know the right thing to do, too. With me, at least.”

“Glad to know,” he replied quietly.

*

The next morning, she and Veronica met Kevin outside the Great Hall for breakfast; Kevin wanted to know how the date had gone, and Veronica didn’t want to tell Betty without telling her other friend, too.

Kevin started the conversation, tugging on his bag strap. “How’d it go with Chuck?”

Veronica laughed and rolled her eyes, keeping her chin up as she hooked her arm through Betty’s. “Chuck has muscles for days, but his conversation is not the stuff of Oscar Wilde, or even Gilderoy Lockhart.”

The three entered the Great Hall, moving directly to the Hufflepuff table for breakfast. As they passed the Gryffindor table, Allison Adams slid further down the fairly empty bench, and called with a mean glint in her eyes, “Hey, Veronica. How was your date with Chuck last night?”

Confused, Veronica looked at the Ravenclaw who was sitting with her Gryffindor friend, Kim Wong, who shared the mean smile.

“It was fine, thanks,” the raven-haired Hufflepuff said slowly, exchanging a glance with Betty.

“Yeah?” replied Kim. “Did you get to rub the dragon?”

“The what now?” retorted Veronica, turning to face the girls, who broke into giggles, and then began whispering and looking back at Veronica.

Allison snorted. “You got to rub the dragon, right? How was it?”

“We went to the Three Broomsticks and had a brownie sundae, if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Veronica slowly. She then turned to Betty and Kevin, as they sat on either side of her at the Hufflepuff table, and whispered, “What is going on?”

Betty glanced around the Great Hall, where some students kept looking back at them. “I’m not sure...”

Behind them, at the Gryffindor table, Reggie – always an early riser – sat, so that his back was to the three. He did politely turn around, his teeth almost sharkish as he did so, though.

“Chocolate and vanilla, morning,” he said to both Veronica and Betty. “And Keller. How’s it going this morning, V? Heard you had an eventful night.”

Kevin grimaced.

Veronica saw Kevin’s tick. She put her cutlery down sharply, casting an eye over both males in her vicinity and asked, sharply, “What? What the hell is _rubbing a dragon_? I’m assuming it’s not literal.”

Kevin shook his head, looking down at the table. “It’s kind of what it sounds like. It’s a Hogwarts thing.”

“And right popular with the witches too,” added Reggie cheerfully as he reached for his morning selection. “Rubbing the dragon is a euphemism for rubbing—”

“Yes, Reggie!” interrupted Betty quickly. “We get it.”

“Wasn’t sure you didn’t need it spelled out for you, Coop,” grinned Reggie, “You know – on account of you being Chastity-Belt Cooper and all.”

Betty eye rolled and Veronica heaved a deep breath. “No, Kevin, it’s not a ‘Hogwarts thing.’ It’s a slut-shaming thing, and I’m neither a slut, nor am I going to be shamed.”

“We can go to Professor McGonagall,” offered Betty quietly.

Veronica shook her head. “No. Rumours will spread around Hogwarts that I – apparently – put out on the first date, by someone named, excuse me, Chuck Clayton. Does he really think he can get away with this? Does he not know who I am? I will cut the brakes on his souped-up _dragon_.”

Reggie frowned. “So... it didn’t happen?”

Veronica spun around fully on the Hufflepuff bench to glare at the Gryffindor. “ _No_ , Reggie. Nothing happened with Chuck! I shared a dessert with him at the Three Broomsticks. That. Is. All.”

His frown deepened. “Huh.”

“What?” snapped Veronica.

Reggie shrugged. “It’s just – that’s kind of the impression he was giving off this morning in the Upper Commons.”

Betty recoiled. “What? _Why_?”

“Yeah, why?” added Kevin. “He’s the captain of the Slytherin team, and Hogwarts’ resident golden boy – or, I guess, silver boy born with a silver spoon. He doesn’t exactly need to embellish his reputation.”

“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,” said Reggie, although he was looking off towards the Slytherin table, despite Chuck not being there. He seemed to be introspective, his brows furrowing a little. “I need to check something.”

He stood, paused, and then turned back to them. “I don’t have any classes with you today. Where are you after?”

“The Black and Gold,” offered Betty immediately, knowing the office for the school newspaper was private. “We’ll be there after seventh period.”

Reggie nodded and winked, leaving the Great Hall without eating anything. The three watched him, Kevin and Betty with curiosity and Veronica stewing.

“I can expose him in the pages of the Black and Gold,” she offered, turning back to her upset friend.

“No,” said Veronica quietly, her voice very low. “Spoken like a true good girl who always follows the rules. Well, I don’t follow rules, I make them, and when necessary, I break them.”

“I really thought we left the ‘breaking the rules’ behind after Grundy’s office,” sighed Kevin, slouching.

“Why don’t we wait and see what Reggie finds out,” suggested Betty quietly. After all, her foray to Grundy’s office had led to a series of events that left her oldest childhood friend heartbroken.

“Oh, we’ll see what Reggie has to say,” replied Veronica darkly, picking up her knife and aggressively buttering a slice of toast. “But, I’m going to get revenge on Chuck, Betty. And awesome if you want to help – but you better be willing to go full dark, no stars.”

She turned her dark eyes on her blonde friend and asked, “What do you say, in or out?”

Betty bit her lip. “In.”

“Betty!” cried Kevin, staring at her.

“It’s not right, Kev,” sighed Betty. “V shouldn’t be treated like this, and people like Chuck shouldn’t get away with it, either. If I can help, I will. Especially after what she did for me and Grundy’s office.”

“Okay, first of all?” began Kevin, “Accordingly to my father and Professor Longbottom, _nothing happened with Grundy’s office_. So, let’s use Fight Club rules here, okay? Second – there’s something about getting revenge against a toerag – a hot one, even – but ‘full dark, no stars’ seems a bit extreme.”

Veronica stuck her chin out stubbornly. “I’m going to do it wth or without your help, Kev.”

He sighed, resignedly. “What do you need?”

*

 _Somehow_ , thought Betty with a fond smile, her friends were becoming involved with the Black and Gold without expressively joining the school newspaper, as she began directing them towards people to speak (interrogate) with, and she began juggling numerous stories.

After breakfast and their shared classes, Betty sent Kevin off to question the other Gryffindors – particularly Archie and Moose – to see what they heard, while Veronica began formulating her ‘mean girl’ plan against Chuck.

Betty’s task actually came to her.

“Betty,” said Cricket, greeting her in Literature. Beside her, Brigitte was nervously tugging at the sleeve of her Ravenclaw cardigan.

“Hey Cricket,” said Betty slowly, glancing at the two girls were stood in front of her normal desk pairing with Jughead. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to speak to you,” continued Cricket quietly, eyes darting to Dilton and Frankie, who were ignoring them, and then Jughead, who wasn’t ignoring them but pretending to do so.

“After class?” whispered Brigitte. “Please.”

Betty nodded. “Sure.”

The two girls then took their seats, and she slid into hers. Jughead leaned across the aisle and muttered, “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” whispered Betty back.

In hindsight, she should’ve known; especially when, after class, Cricket and Brigitte led her to an abandoned classroom a few doors down from Literature. Betty stopped upon entering the classroom, eyes wide.

Along with Cricket and Brigitte, from their own year group, was Ginger, Tina, and Ethel; from the fifth years was spunky Fiona from Gryffindor, and even a fourth year Slytherin Betty didn’t know.

“What’s going on?” she asked, shutting the door behind her with a soft _click_.

Cricket waved her wand and intoned, “ _Muffliato_.” She cleared her throat. “We heard about Veronica at breakfast, Betty. Is she okay?”

Frowning, Betty stepped further into the room. “She’s pissed.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame her,” groused Ginger, whom Betty only knew as Cheryl’s friend – using the term loosely – and as a fellow Dragon cheerleader.

“What’s this about, Cricket?” asked Betty again, crossing her arms.

Cricket waved her hand at the group of girls. “Everyone here went on a date with Chuck. For some of us, we did exactly what he _said_ we did with him; for the rest of us, we didn’t.”

Slowly, Betty’s arms dropped. She pulled out a notebook she had begun carrying around, and a self-inking quill.

“Tell me everything.”

*

TBC..


	11. Slytherpuffs

*

XI: Slytherpuffs

*

“I actually have a lot of respect for Hufflepuffs. They also tend to look for the most efficient solution. They’re just ham-strung because they ignore any efficient or advantageous solution that might possibly hurt someone’s feelings or that might seem unfair or unethical to other people. In many ways, a Hufflepuff is just a Slytherin with an overdeveloped sense of fair play. Or maybe a Slytherin is just a ruthless Hufflepuff. Amounts to the same thing really.”

 – Harry Potter, _[Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11191235/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Prince-of-Slytherin)_ , chapter 47 “Modes of Transportation”

*

Betty found Veronica – or rather, Veronica found Betty – at lunch. Veronica latched onto her friend tightly, pulling her to the far end of the Hufflepuff table, away from any prying ears. Once they sat, Betty immediately accosted her friend.

“This story is bigger than we thought. Cricket and Brigitte stopped me after Literature to speak with them,” she whispered quickly, leaning her head in to Veronica’s. The other girl tilted hers to indicate she was listening. “It turns out what happened to you happened to others. I wanted to see if anyone would go on record. I can write about this in the Black and Gold!”

Veronica’s smile was predatory. “That’s great, B.”

“You’re okay with me writing?” asked Betty. “You didn’t think it would have much of an effect earlier.”

“That was earlier. This is now,” she replied airily.

She maintained that predatory smile – a distinct sharpness in her eyes that reminded Betty vividly that her new friend was a Lodge – for the rest of the afternoon, but then ran off to check something after their last class of the day. She then ran back from wherever she had gone, breathlessly exuberant. She grabbed Betty’s hand and began pulling her out the entrance hall and down to the Quidditch pitch.

“Where are we going? We need to meet Reggie,” protested Betty, trying to dig her heels in or at least slow down the raven-haired girl.

“We are,” agreed Veronica, still tugging her friend down the grass-covered grounds as a chilly wind battered against them. “But there’s a last-minute pick-up Quidditch match between all four Houses going on, so he won’t be able to talk to us anyway until it’s done.”

Betty frowned, confused. “But are we going to wait for them then?”

“Nope,” grinned Veronica, casting a look over her shoulder at her friend. “Slytherin and Gryffindor just played each other, which means they’re in the lockers. We’re going to have a... chat with them.”

“WHAT!”

With Veronica’s tight grip pulling Betty along, she had no choice but to follow her friend as she rounded the pitch and dove headfirst into the changing room lockers, pushing the door open with all of her weight.

While Veronica kept her head high and eyes forward – on her mission to find either Reggie or Chuck (Betty honestly wasn’t sure which) – Betty hunched her shoulders in, trying to make herself smaller. Like all other sports in the world, the locker room was divided between the male and female Quidditch players; and Veronica turned _left_ instead of right, moving directly into the men’s change room.

The locker room smelled of sweat and socks. Warm tendrils of steam wafted from the shower area and rivets of dripping water made the floor slick. Laughter and the low murmur of male voices slid through the air.

Betty brought one hand up to shield her eyes, letting Veronica charge forward as she eased her lithe body around half-dressed classmates of theirs, or a few in just towels as they exited the showers.

“Excuse me,” said Veronica sharply, easing around two Slytherins. “Excuse me.”

A familiar redhead exited the showers as they passed by it, and he squawked loudly as he clutched his towel. “Veronica? Betty, what are you guys doing here?”

 _This is becoming a familiar sight,_ thought Betty ruefully. _And barely a month ago, I’d be welcoming seeing Archie dripping wet. Now I just want to get out of this place as soon as possible._

Veronica grinned nastily at him. “Don’t worry about it. I mean it, Andrews. Hit the showers and stay out of my way.”

Betty gave her childhood friend a wry smile. Archie stood flummoxed, blinking before groaning loudly. “Kevin warned me about this.”

“Sorry, Arch,” said Betty, following Veronica with a shrug of her shoulders. She gave an awkward smile at third year Slytherin Tony Topaz, whom she tutored in Charms the previous year; and then she smiled at Reggie – although that was more of a grimace.

In return, Reggie quirked an eyebrow at her and then ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back. He folded his arms and leaned against his Quidditch locker, watching Veronica’s prowl down the aisle, ignoring Archie as he came to a stop next to his Gryffindor teammate.

Veronica stopped in front of a group of five at the end of the aisle. Two Quidditch players were lounging on the wooden bench in front of their assigned Quidditch lockers: Chuck Clayton and Fangs Foggarty. Chuck still wore the lower half of his Quidditch uniform, the bright white breeches and brown boots that attached to shin- and kneepads. He was not wearing his green and silver Slytherin jersey, or the elbow pads and bracers.

Veronica cleared her throat while Betty hovered awkwardly at her side, arms crossed and looking anywhere but the half-naked teens in front of her.

“Huh, B and V. _Ménage_ -a-right on! Ladies,” he laughed, and those around him – Fred “Fangs” Foggarty, Cedric Evans, and Edward Malloy – with the exception of Moose and Ace MacDonald, the only Gryffindors of the group, joined in.

“That is disgusting,” snapped Veronica haughtily. She pointed her finger at her date from the previous night. “Take back what you’ve been telling everyone about me.”

Chuck slowly stood, hands out. “Whoa, whoa. Why are you so wound up?”

“Wound up? Clayton, you’ve been going around telling people I _rubbed your dragon_ last night!” snapped Veronica. “I did no such thing!”

“Ah, c’mon V, it’s a badge of honour,” grinned Chuck, an easy tone to his voice. He leered down at her. “‘Sides, you’re not exactly virgin territory after your date with Andrews.”

Veronica barely held back, an enraged shriek pushing through her closed mouth.

Behind, Archie called out, “Uncalled for, Clayton! What the hell, man!”

“Okay, that’s beyond irrelevant, Chuck,” said Betty, quickly inserting herself into the conversation. She felt the same pit of fire burning low in her belly, and it helped her overcome her shyness at being in the men’s locker. “You’re not allowed to go around humiliating girls, for any reason, under any circumstances, you...” She paused, trying to find an appropriate insult. “You jerk!”

Chuck lazily looked Betty up and down, ignoring a sputtering Archie, and then said dismissively, “Look, I get you’re not the dating kind of girl – given your mother and reputation, Blondie, but hey, if you wanna ride my broomstick, that can be arranged.” He leered. “It worked out well for Jason and Polly, didn’t it?”

Betty twisted her nose in disgust and recoiled. “Ugh.”

Veronica leaned forward, her eyes flashing and snarling out her demand. “Let’s keep this simple, so that your preppy-murderer half-brain can grasp it. _Tell_. _Everyone_. _The_. _Truth_. I did _not_ sleep with you.”

Chuck dropped his faux-playful tone. The frigid face he put on as he straightened had Fangs and Cedric both move to flank him.

“Right, that high-toned bitch attitude may have worked on the frogs you dated at Beauxbatons,” scoffed Chuck, “But you’re in Dragon territory, now. Better still, you’re dealing with a snake.”

Behind, Fangs let out a loud _hiss_ , which Cedric Evans and Edward Malloy joined in with, then laughing loudly when they finished.

Veronica blinked. “Merlin, that’s so juvenile. Seriously? You’re... _hissing_ at me?”

Chuck folded his arms and peered down his nose at Veronica. “Please. Fight back. You’ll only make it harder on yourself.”

“My Galleons are on Xena going all Warrior Princess on you, personally.”

The room stilled, and Betty turned in surprise to look at Reggie, who was staring at Chuck pointedly. The older Slytherin frowned and narrowed his eyes on the taller Quidditch player.

“That right, Mantle?” asked Chuck quietly.

“Yeah,” said Reggie, a small smirk slipping onto his face. He yawned – though it was faked – and stretched, popping his back as he rolled his shoulders. He then brought up a hand and scratched at his hip, at the edge of his towel. Drawn by the movement, Betty’s eyes focused on the finger, and the dark mark underneath it.

 _Huh_ , she thought, blinking. _I didn’t realize Reggie had a tattoo._

However, Chuck immediately dropped his frown as his eyes landed on the mark Reggie was blatantly drawing attention to, making him swallow heavily. Something passed across his face, too quick for Betty to identify, but it then settled into stubbornness.

“No,” he said, although Betty wasn’t sure what he was disagreeing with: Reggie’s thought that Veronica could handle Chuck on her own, or whatever byplay was going on between the two posturing Quidheads.

She cast her eyes towards Archie, but he looked just as lost as she did. Instead, she tugged on Veronica’s arm. “C’mon, V – let’s go. You said what you wanted to say.”

Veronica barred her teeth in response at Chuck, who blew her a kiss. Instead of being the one dragged, Betty now dragged an angry and nearly spitting Veronica behind her.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Betty as soon as they left the locker room and were halfway back to the school.

Veronica groaned. “I thought I could bully him into telling everyone nothing happened!”

“Are you kidding?” Betty stared at her friend. “This is _Chuck_. He went around telling people something did happen and then the Hogwarts gossip mill got hold of it. He won’t take it back.”

“Well, _now_ I know,” groused Veronica, huffing.

Betty half rolled her eyes, glancing back at the locker room. “Although... I wonder what was going on with Reggie.”

“What do you mean?”

Betty turned back to look at her friend. “Did you see it?”

“See what?” asked Veronica, her brows coming together in confusion.

Betty motioned at her waist in reference to the annoying Gryffindor. “He has a tattoo, on his hip. As soon as Chuck saw it, he – I don’t know. He looked like he was going to apologise to you. But then he changed his mind.”

“From a _tattoo_?” asked Veronica incredulously. The two were at the entrance hall, and then turned up the main stairs to head to the Black and Gold office, in case Reggie would come by as he said.

Betty shrugged. “That’s what it looked like to me, anyway.”

“Hmm,” replied Veronica. She then sighed. “Still. If Clayton isn’t going to go around telling everyone _voluntarily_ that we didn’t have sex, then we need to _make_ him tell everyone.”

Betty frowned. “Do you have something in mind?”

Veronica shook her head. “I’m not sure. Not yet, anyway.”

They had reached the Black and Gold office, and Betty unlocked it with her wand; only she and Jughead had full access to the office, as well as their supervisor Professor Adams. As they entered, the torches on the walls, as well as the hanging candelabras burst into life, their flames flickering and casting a warm glow over everything.

Betty sat on top of the conference table, watching as Veronica paced back and forth the length of the room, mumbling to herself and planning her revenge on Chuck Clayton. While the sight was amusing, Betty was becoming nervous when Veronica mentioned something about ‘draught of peace’ and ‘Imperio’ and ‘no one would find him.’

Luckily, the swaggering form of Reggie Mantle saved Betty from having to _obliviate_ the last suggestion from her friends’ mind. However, the anger remained and as Veronica turned to face Reggie, he immediately froze as her dark eyes locked on him.

“Reggie,” greeted Veronica in a low, frosty tone.

He gulped.

“Ronnie,” he said carefully, then moved his eyes to Betty, who gave him an amused, tight-lipped smile. “Betty.”

“Welcome to the Black and Gold, Reggie,” greeted Betty, her voice significantly warmer than Veronica’s. “You wanted to meet with us?”

Regaining some of his confidence, he nodded and grabbed one of the rolling chairs, spinning it and sitting in his backwards. He folded his tall form and rested his arms along the back seat, feet planted firmly as he straddled the chair.

“Well?” snapped Veronica, crossing her arms and tapping her shoe impatiently. “What about?”

“I know Chuck was lying about what you did on your date,” said Reggie. “I have proof.”

“Great!” Veronica’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s use it and expose the bastard.”

Reggie shook his head. “Nuh-uh. It’s not possible.”

Betty’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because the proof would implicate more than just Chuck,” explained Reggie, cagily. He rocked back on his heels and a bit and then used them to push himself back and forward a bit, swivelling the chair in small side-to-side movements.

“I know that there are other girls who claim that they didn’t do what Chuck said they did,” began Betty carefully, slowly. “But are you saying that there are _more_? And that Chuck isn’t the only guy going around saying these things?”

Reggie grimaced. “Yes and no. Chuck’s definitely not alone – it’s three guys on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Fangs, Cedric, and Malloy, as well as a Ravenclaw. They are in on it.”

“ _In on it_?” Veronica’s eyes flashed fire at the Gryffindor. “It’s _slut shaming,_ Reggie.”

“And the Slytherins will fall in line and publicly apologise,” he replied firmly, stopping the swivelling of his chair. “They won’t be a problem.”

“But Chuck will,” sighed Betty.

Reggie nodded. “A bit, yeah.”

Veronica threw her hands up in an angry gesture before planting them on her hips in an intimidating form, but Betty tilted her head and surveyed Reggie. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

He winced.

“What?” asked Veronica, catching it. She leaned forward a bit. “What is it?”

Betty narrowed her eyes. “It has something to do with your tattoo, right?”

This time, Reggie’s mouth twisted down in an unhappy motion that Betty and Veronica has sussed that out. With a sigh, he stood from the chair and pushed it away, his hands moving to his belt.

“Reggie!” Betty shot off the table.

“Whoa, Mantle!” shouted Veronica, though her eyes were firmly fixed on Reggie’s hands.

He finished undoing his belt, and then used his left hand to push the trouser fabric down, revealing the top of his hipbone. There, a small Gryffindor crest in red and gold contrasted against his olive skin. The girls both squinted to read _14-12-15_ , which sat underneath the crest.

Veronica read the date out loud. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s when I received the tattoo,” explained Reggie, pulling his trousers back up and doing his belt, too. He gave a tiny shrug. “Before we left for Yule last year.”

“There isn’t a tattoo parlour in Hogsmeade,” Betty pointed out. “That’s a _magical_ tattoo. And you got it while here at Hogwarts.”

“That’s right, Nancy Drew,” grinned Reggie. “And I’m the only one out of my year group – and the seventh years – to have it.” His grin widened. “In fact, I’m the _only_ one in Hogwarts to have it.”

“So what does it mean?” asked Veronica, much calmer.

Reggie hesitated. “There are oaths involved. I can’t say much, even though I’ve completed all my tasks.”

 _Oaths,_ thought Betty darkly. Thoughts whirled through her brain, points clicking and coming together but still just slightly out of reach.

“What _can_ you tell us?” she asked instead, leaning back against the conference table.

“Graduating sevenths find a promising firstie to initiate,” began Reggie, hooking his foot around the same chair he was using earlier and pulling it towards him. Once it rolled across the floor, he sat back in it, but this time properly.

“Is it a Gryffindor thing?” asked Veronica, her eyes rooted on the spot where she saw his tattoo. Betty knew she was wondering about Archie and Kevin. She too was curious about the answer.

Reggie snorted. “It’s a _Pureblood_ thing. But mostly a Slytherin thing.”

 _Oh... no..._ thought Betty. _I have a bad feeling about this..._

“What did you do to earn the tattoo, Reggie?” she asked quietly.

“We have a list of things,” he said, frowning. “I can’t say anything else. Just we need to complete them before graduation or we can lose our magic.”

The words hung in the Black and Gold office for a minute while both girls stared at him in stupefied horror. Then –

“ _ARE YOU INSANE?!_ ”

“ _You took the Oath as a_ first year!”

“The _hell_ were you thinking?”

“Sweet _Merlin_ , Reggie!”

He threw his hands up in a placating gesture towards the two angry Hufflepuffs in front of him. “Whoa – hold on, calm down, you two!” he eyed them, waiting for both seething girls to fall silent. “Merlin, you badgers are _scary_.”

“Seriously, Reggie, what were you thinking?” gritted Betty. “You took a _blood oath_ as a first year to complete however many tasks there are _or lose your magic_!”

Reggie frowned. “How did you know it was a Blood Oath?”

Veronica turned to face Betty as well. “Yeah, how did you know, B?”

Betty swallowed, looking first at Reggie and then Veronica. “Remember how angry Jug was when you said you were going on a date with Chuck?”

Veronica nodded slowly, so Betty continued. “I asked him about it when we were walking to the library. He said he couldn’t tell me – _literally_ couldn’t tell me. And then let it slip that he took an oath as a first year.”

Reggie let out a loud breath, leaning back in the chair and sprawling his legs out in front of him, extending his long form. He then crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s all Jones can tell you.”

Betty was stricken. “So Juggie is in on this, too?”

Reggie snorted and then began laughing, loudly. “ _Jones?_ The freak in the dungeons? No way. He’ll never be able to complete the tasks before graduation, anyway. He knows he’s a Squib walking.”

“Don’t say that!” protested Betty angrily.

Reggie muffled another laugh. “Yeah, sorry, Tinkerbelle, but some of the tasks on the list are pretty...” he trailed off and turned his eyes to Veronica. “... graphic.”

“You mean sexual,” the raven-haired teen frowned. She sighed. “And obviously you have a way of knowing how everyone is doing. The ones initiated, that is.”

Reggie nodded, his lips still twitching in mirth. “Yeah. There’s a playbook. It records all the completed tasks the initiates do, because everything is tied in to the magic. So when you said that you _didn’t_ rub Clayton’s dragon, I got curious. And as the only one who _has_ completed everything – well before graduation, I’d like to add – I’m currently in charge of everything.”

Betty brought her hands up and fisted them against the side of her face in frustration. “And we can’t ask you to give us the playbook as proof, even though it’s all there, because it would implicate others who are taking their oaths seriously.”

“Because it’s only Clayton and a few who are abusing it and using gossip to further their reputations,” sighed Veronica.

“Pretty much,” agreed Reggie, shrugging easily. “I mean – no one is ever _forced_ , you know what I’m saying? I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Not the point, Reggie,” muttered Betty. “It’s more of a matter that the damn thing exists, anyway.”

“And that the slimy snake won’t take it back,” finished Veronica coolly.

Betty pulled her hands from her face and looked at Reggie curiously. “There are a bunch of other girls who are willing to speak against Chuck.”

“Yeah, and what?” the tall Asian Quidditch player narrowed his eyes at Betty.

She bit her lip. “Could we use them _and_ your help? Without mentioning the book? And the oath? And still get Chuck into trouble?”

Veronica turned to Reggie and widened her eyes. Reggie shifted uncomfortably in the chair, bringing his legs back in and closer.

“Uhh...”

“I mean, you already said it – you pretty much know everything,” added Veronica, a gleam in her eyes.

Betty jumped in, and realized that Veronica was on the same thought process as her. “We could use your help. We set up a public venue, get Chuck to admit that he lied... and use the other girls’ testimonies and your word against Chuck’s... – what could go wrong?”

Reggie cringed, eyes darting back and forth between the two. His eyes settled on Betty finally. He weakly asked, “Did anyone tell you, you’re scary when you get like this?”

Betty grinned – but it wasn’t her usual one. “Veronica did suggest ‘full dark, no stars,’ Reg.”

He swallowed heavily.

“C’mon, Reggie,” wheedled Veronica, moving closer towards the teen still sitting in the chair. “Help us girls out. Proof or no proof; book or no book; I am going scorched earth on these privileged, despicable miscreants – with or without your help.” She leered at him, nearly bending fully at the waist as she leaned towards him. “The question is whether you want to be one of those miscreants or not.”

Eyes wide, Reggie shook his head no.

Betty and Veronica shared a toothy grin above him.

*

The girls had a plan. Betty and Veronica had stayed up almost the entire night, hashing it out and working on it – and then, at one point, bringing Reggie’s role into the discussion which he finally agreed to, although not without a lot of posturing, hemming and hawing, and threats about his position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

In Herbology that morning, Betty and Veronica immediately sidled up next to Kevin, claiming him as their partner for the hour and a half long class; Archie, frowning at them, moved next to Moose and Reggie (who was ignoring the two Hufflepuff girls). They began replanting their designated vine, working together quietly and comfortably.

“So,” began Kevin, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his arm and avoiding his dirt-caked gardening gloves. “Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday? Because I legit had to talk down a _very_ confused Archie.”

Veronica smiled. “Oh, nothing to worry about there, Kev. Everything is fine.”

He stopped digging in the new planter, his hole only a few inches deep. He peered at Veronica, and then narrowed his eyes. “This has to do with Chuck.”

“Yes...” Veronica hedged.

“And you don’t want to tell me?” he asked, hurt creeping into his tone.

Betty shook her head from Veronica’s other side. “It’s not that. We’re just stuck on a part of our plan.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced around greenhouse seven, where the more dangerous plants were kept. Professor Longbottom was at the front of the room, speaking quietly and demonstrating a repotting technique to Trevor, Ambrose, and Adam – the Hufflepuff boys. Beside them, Archie, Reggie, and Moose were struggling with their creeping vine and not paying any attention. Even the Gryffindor girls were busy.

“But you have a plan,” he said, pitching his voice low.

Veronica nodded.

“Then what are you stuck on?” he asked, eyes lowering to his planter.

Above him, Veronica glanced at Betty, who nodded. Veronica sighed and said, quietly, “We need polyjuice.”

Kevin’s head shot up. “ _What?_ ” he hissed. “You need a Class X potion? Are you kidding me?”

“No, Kevin,” gritted out Veronica, “I am not kidding you.”

“What do you need Polyjuice for?” asked Kevin, eyes wide.

Betty bit her lip. “Do you really want to know?”

“Well, _yes!_ ”

“We’ve got a plan to make Chuck tell everyone that we didn’t have sex,” admitted Veronica.

Kevin’s eyebrows furrowed. “And it involves Polyjuice?”

“Well, we can’t be ourselves or ask someone else to start some more new rumours, can we?” asked Veronica sardonically with her own eye roll.

Kevin was pensive, methodologically replanting the vine that Betty handed to him. The girls let him work things out on his own. Finally, he murmured, “I think I can get you the Polyjuice, if you need it right away.”

Both girls’ snapped their heads up and twisted to look at him.

“I ahh—I know someone who can get it,” he continued, blushing. “For the right price.”

Betty’s eyes widened and Veronica’s narrowed. “Tell me how much and I can get you a Gringott’s Bank Draft in an hour.”

Kevin nodded, eyes moving down to his plant. “I’ll let you know by tonight.”

Veronica nodded her thanks, and Betty reached out with her one clean glove to touch Kevin’s shoulder thankfully.

“Just – I swear to Merlin, _don’t get caught_.” He rolled his eyes. “Seriously. I am the Head Auror’s son. He’s already suspicious of us, and personally I am too good looking to go to the Az.”

*

After Herbology, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin went their separate ways; Veronica and Kevin went to send an owl to Kevin’s mysterious potions source, and Betty went to the Black and Gold offices during third period. She had been neglecting her extra-curricular with the school newspaper, focusing too much on Jason’s murder, Polly’s disappearance, and now the blood oath that captured Jughead.

The problem was she couldn’t concentrate on the layout for the upcoming Fall issue; she couldn’t edit an article on the Twilight’s closing that Jughead had angrily written.

With a growl, Betty threw down the red-tipped quill onto the desk and put her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the conference table.

 _How is this even my life?_ She thought angrily. _Polly is still gone and my parents are lying – at least, if I take Wendy at face value. Do I trust my father when he said Pol tried to kill herself? Clearly, there is some sort of connection between Polly and Jason that no one is telling me – and the question is whether my parents know what it is, too._

She hunched her shoulder and shakily exhaled. _And let’s get started on this insane plan Veronica and I brewed. I know I helped, but the scorebook that Reggie mentioned is just really catching the snitch._ And _Juggie’s involved, somehow._

Pressure was building up in her sinuses and all Betty wanted to do was go back to her bed and draw the blankets over her body, and pretend it was already Sunday, and the week was over. Then, she wouldn’t have to worry about the plan against Chuck, about the oath, about Polly and Jason. Too many things were going on.

_Knock, knock._

The sound startled Betty, her heart pounding furiously. She gripped the edges of the desk, head popping up to look at the two figures hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“Ethel,” said Betty, trying to calm her racing heart. “What can I do for you?”

The stocky sixth year stepped further into the room. The blue of her Ravenclaw cardigan contrasted nicely with her curly red hair, as well as a the small flush that spread across her freckled nose.

“Betty,” she greeted, turning sideways and motioning behind her at the familiar Hufflepuff at her side. “You’re friends with Trevor, right? Valerie’s brother?”

“Hey,” said Betty, greeting her fellow prefect and someone she hadn’t really spoken to at all the past month since school began. “What’s up?”

Trevor grinned. “Hey, Betty. Sorry for bothering you like this, but I haven’t had much of a chance to catch you in the Hufflepuff dorm recently. You’re usually in and out before any of us can speak up.”

“Sorry,” chuckled Betty, nervously reaching for her quill to twirl it between her fingers.

“So,” broke in Ethel, “Trevor is on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

Betty raised her eyebrows. “Captain, I know.”

Ethel nodded. “Yeah – but did you also know he’s a Pureblood?”

Betty narrowed her eyes.

“I was... approached in our first year,” he said nervously, rubbing the side of his neck. “I didn’t go through with it – but as a Quidditch player, I’ve heard enough over the years – enough that I can give you some more information than what you probably already know.”

Betty’s eyes widened instead. Her mouth dropped open. “Really? Like... the _tasks_?” her voice dropped low on the last word.

Trevor nodded, looking very uncomfortable. “I – I don’t condone it. At all. But um, Reggie once left his completed list out after last year, and I saw it... and... took it.”

He glanced around nervously.

Catching on, Betty tightly gripped the quill in her right hand. “Are you free tomorrow night, Trev? We can discuss this at... the Three Broomsticks?”

Trevor immediately relaxed. “Sounds good. Anyway, I’m going to grab lunch early and do some review before Potions. See you in class?”

Betty nodded, waving goodbye with her quill and mouthing “thank you” to Ethel, who turned away, too. Invigorated, Betty sped through editing Jughead’s piece on the Twilight, putting it aside and was even able to read ahead for the next two potions’ lessons by the time lunch swung around.

Potions was predictable; Betty paired with Kevin, while Veronica braved being Archie’s partner – both Kevin and Betty had warned her well in advance that Archie had barely managed to scrap the EE required for Professor Slughorn’s class, and that more often than not, he was a Longbottom.

Since Veronica had no idea what that meant, she learned the hard way when the first potion they made together – a review of a Shrinking Solution – blew up in their faces (Archie had profusely apologised, but it took Veronica a few days to get over the black-soot face she had, despite Slughorn cleaning her immediately).

Overall, Archie’s potion bubbled over and turned a vicious green, and every time a bubble popped, a noxious gas spread over the classroom until Slughorn finally had enough, vanishing Archie’s potion. The rest of the class, having practiced the Bubblehead charm in a recent Charms class, was thankful for the opportunity to practice their spell work and even happier when Slughorn ended class early.

“Please,” begged Archie outside the dungeon classroom, “For the love of hippogriffs everywhere, please help me pass potions, Ronnie.”

Veronica sighed, eyeing Archie shrewdly. “It’ll cut into your Quidditch and music time, Andrews.”

“Anything,” he continued to beg, much to Betty and Kevin’s amusement. “Please – I’ll do anything you say.”

“Anything?” echoed Veronica with a glint in her eyes.

He swallowed nervously, but nodded in confirmation. “Anything.”

“Oh, Archiekins,” cooed Veronica with a manic gleam in her eyes. “I suddenly have visions of you rubbing my feet after every single Hogwarts Dragon cheer practice from now until the end of the semester.”

“Visions, huh?” snorted Kevin. “Didn’t know you took Divination, Ronnie.”

She winked at Kevin, but then turned back to the slightly worried redhead next to her. “Come on; let’s get to the Upper Common Room. We’ll need to make sure your theory is sound before we even think about touching the brewing process.”

“We’ll join you,” said Betty, gesturing to Kevin, who nodded. “We can get started on our homework.”

When they arrived, they quickly settled at the same table that Betty, Kevin, and Archie had used a few weeks previously, when Archie and Jughead got into their fight. The six-person table meant that two seats were still vacant, one reserved for Jughead if he wanted to join them.

While Veronica began quizzing Archie on his potions knowledge (which was very little), Kevin took out his Transfiguration homework. Betty pulled out her research on her mirrors – the theory was holding but she wanted to be entirely sure before she asked Flitwick to watch her cast her spells.

By four, when the seventh period began, other upper year students began to trickle into the room, including Jughead, who slid into the empty seat between Betty and Archie. He pulled out a fiction novel that he and Betty were reading in literature class; pages were dog-eared and bookmarked with slips of paper.

The five worked quietly – with the occasional murmur between them asking for help or clarifications – for some time before dinner. At one point, Reggie and Moose came in and began a loud conversation by the fireplace; the taller Quidditch player continued to ignore Veronica and Betty.

“Oh, hey, Betty.”

Everyone at the table looked up at the voice interrupting them, to see Trevor standing next to their table, at Betty’s side. He gave them all a small smile, and then turned his face towards the blonde, who looked up with a small smile, as well.

“Trev, hi!”

“Sorry to interrupt—”

“Oh, no. It’s okay,” said Betty. “What’s up? Did I forget a prefect shift?”

He shook his head. “No, uh...” his eyes darted towards the work on the table, before pulling them back to his fellow Hufflepuff prefect. “I just wanted to ask you what time we’re meeting tomorrow?”

“Oh!” Betty sat back in her seat, thinking back to their earlier conversation; they had agreed to go to the Three Broomsticks to discuss the oath and tasks, but not when. “Well, we’re missing dinner here at the castle, so... let’s say we’ll meet in the Hufflepuff common room at six, and then use one of the passages to sneak out?”

“Sure, sounds good,” grinned Trevor. “Six it is.”

“Absolutely,” grinned back Betty. “It’s a date.” She blanched. “I mean... I-I’ll see you then.”

“Bye,” he replied, then turning to speak to the table as a whole. “See you all around.”

Betty gave a nervous chuckle and tiny wave. “Bye.” When she turned back to the table, she saw that all her friends had varying looks on their faces: Archie was confused whereas Veronica and Kevin were vaguely interested and amused.

“Going on a date with Trev?” teased Kevin. “Does Mama Cooper know about that?”

Veronica was less subtle. “Betty, you’re positively radiating Nicholas Sparks. Tell me everything about this Trev.” She even leaned forward and put her elbows on the table.

The teasing words and tone, however, did not distract from something else that was running undercurrent to the table. Kevin tipped his head to the other side of Betty in a motion that would be subtle to anyone but she, just as Veronica, on Archie’s side of the table, glanced deliberately at the Slytherin beside her.

Betty turned her head to face Veronica, and saw a very stoic mask settle on Jughead’s face. She quickly swallowed and blurted out, “Oh, there’s nothing to tell. And Kev, my mother does not run my social calendar.”

At the looks everyone at the table was giving her, Betty turned her righteous answer into a truthful, “... Okay, she’s been staying at her family home all week and hasn’t come back since a fight on Sunday with my dad. Anyway, it’s not a ‘ _date’_ date.”

Jughead snorted beside her, his blue eyes dark as he spoke. “You just called it a date. You _literally_ said, ‘It’s a date.’”

Betty, wide-eyed and flustered, said, “That’s just my cover. Really, it’s an intelligence gathering mission.”

Veronica sighed. “Why is everything weird here? What is _wrong_ with Hogwarts? Why can’t a date just be a date? You know, without any expectations for romance or sex or anything?”

When no one answered, she attempted to change the conversation, especially as a mulish expression settled on Jughead’s face. “What about you, Archie? How’s life in a PG world?”

Archie looked up from his potions textbook with a frown. “PG?”

“Post-Grundy,” she replied tartly. At the looks everyone else at the table gave her, she frowned, “What, too soon?”

Betty cleared her throat. “Look – we should focus on the one thing we have access to that your dad doesn’t, Kev. The kids at Hogwarts.”

“He can literally walk in at any time and interview them, Betty,” replied Kevin with an eye roll, just as Veronica sighed, “Ugh... boring.”

Betty frowned at her two friends – especially given they were _in the know_ regarding her feelings for Jughead, as well as their plan for that weekend – and wondered why they weren’t more interested in solving Jason’s death.

“You know, maybe Trev knows something about Jason he didn’t think was important,” she said hotly, daring them to contradict her. “Maybe he knows something about the Quidditch players that _we don’t_.”

Both Kevin and Veronica caught what she meant, grimacing. Archie, however, just turned his head back and forth between them, while Betty saw Jughead’s eyes narrow from her peripheral.

They were interrupted by another voice – this one unwelcoming to Betty, as she heard it yell at her every morning at cheer practice.

“Sorry to interrupt Sad Breakfast Club, but I’m here to formally invite you to Jason’s memorial at Thornhill this weekend,” said Cheryl, her bright red lips a straight dash across her face. She individually handed them each a black envelope of high-quality parchment with a blood red ribbon holding the flap closed. Their names were written in silver cursive along the wrong of each.

“To my surprise and chagrin, mother added you to the guest-list,” she continued, handing the last envelope in her hand to Veronica, who cautiously took it from her. Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “In case you’re tempted to steal our silver candlesticks, don’t. We’ll be searching bags, Lodge.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed in anger at the slight against her family. Cheryl gave them all one more look over, and then moved toward Reggie and Moose, handing them envelopes as well.

“Hey,” whispered Betty, leaning forward over the table at Veronica, “Try to remember, she is burying her brother.”

“And any humility left in that family,” retorted Kevin darkly, cutting his eyes at Cheryl, who flounced out of the Upper Common Room without a glance back at their large table.

“Are we all going?” asked Archie, turning his unopened envelope repeatedly in his hands.

“It’s on Saturday,” answered Kevin, reading his own opened invite. “We should pay our respects.”

Betty and Veronica shared a look over the table.

“Um, what time does it start, Kev?” asked Betty.

Kevin frowned, and looked back down at the envelope. “Oh. Eleven, with a luncheon reception. Why?”

Unbidden, Betty twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder at Reggie, who had read his invite. His eyes darted up and caught hers. She could see his Adam’s apple bob from where she sat, and then, he rolled his eyes skyward. He mouthed something she couldn’t read, and then stood.

“Hey everyone!” he shouted, drawing everyone’s attention – predominantly the other sixth and seventh years who were using the Common Room space. “Party at the Mantle Mansion after the memorial! We’re going to say a proper goodbye to Jason!”

Cheers erupted in the room, and Moose and a few other Quidditch players, who were friends with Jason, all congregated around him, some even slapping the Gryffindor on the shoulder.

Betty turned back to face away from him, catching Veronica’s eyes, and then turned to Kevin, who inaudibly sighed. From beside her, under the table, he flashed Betty a thumbs up.

Their plan against Chuck Clayton was a-go.

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not an easy chapter to write - especially as it begins to **significantly** deviate from the Riverdale story. So, thanks are necessary for the following:  
>  \- The HPFanfiction subreddit, who brought to my attention a lot of issues regarding slut-shaming that I didn't think about, as well as an additional thread dealing with drug abuse that will likely be integrated;  
> \- My hubs, who participated in several days' worth of discussions regarding how slut-shaming could be integrated into the HP universe with the Riverdale characters, as well as my friend B who - although he had NO IDEA what I was doing - answered my questions on FB messenger instead of doing his PhD research in Italy like he was supposed to;  
> \- and [Kittenshift17](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2794336/), on fanfiction.net, whose Hermione/Thorfinn Rowle story [A Promise Unspoken](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12164024/1/A-Promise-Unspoken) greatly influenced the Oath story arc that I am integrating, and kindly gave her permission for me to use.
> 
> I hope you are all still enjoying, as well as looking forward to my combination of ep3 ("Body Double") with ep5 ("Heart of Darkness").


	12. Sleuthing

*

XII: Sleuthing

*

 **Sherlock Holmes** : [to Watson] Never theorize before you have data. Invariably, you end up twisting facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.

\-- Sherlock Holmes (2009)

*

_Every town has one: the spooky house that all the kids avoid. Ours was Thornhill, the Blossom family’s mansion, with its very own graveyard. Whatever grew in the rich black soil of the Blossom’s garden always found its way to the town... whether it was murder..._

_Or love._

_Or secrets._

_Or lies._

*

She meant what she told her friends – she was _not_ on a “date” date with Trevor, but an intelligence-gathering mission. However, before meeting with him, she had to find Chuck, to implement a part of the plan she, Veronica, and Reggie had put together ( _of course, Reggie was only going along after the fact, but he was still helping, so it counted for something_ , she supposed).  

In the Hufflepuff dorm, Betty put the finishing touches on her outfit for her not-date with Trevor, one that would have to double to entice Chuck Clayton.

Veronica leaned against the glass shower stall, arms folded as she watched Betty reach for one of the many lipstick tubes that littered the vanity counter top in their shared bathroom. As the only two girls, despite Betty’s obsession on cleanliness and order, Veronica had taken over the bathroom and insisted that her high-end cosmetics and other girly products were to be shared.

“It looks good on you,” the raven-haired teen said, critically eyeing the shade Betty chose – Siren’s Red, very different from her normal Pretty in Pink.

Betty pursed her lips and smacked them once or twice, leaning forward to view the colour in the mirror. “Think it’ll do the job?”

Veronica snorted, a noise so unlike her, that Betty’s eyes widened and they darted to look at the other Hufflepuff’s reflection in the mirror in shock.

“Please,” began Veronica with an eye roll. She brought a hand to chest-level and began inspecting her nails. “He’s a red-blooded man. Wearing what you are, it’ll _definitely_ catch his attention.”

Betty grimaced and inspected the clothing that she and Veronica had specifically chosen: a low-cut pink, sleeveless blouse, the top three buttons undone to provide a peak of her cleavage, and tight-fitting black jeans. Darker eyeliner and eye shadow, paired with the vibrant red lipstick, presented an image of a different Betty Cooper.

“I’ll have to find him to get this to work,” sighed Betty, leaning away from the mirror to stand straight. “And I still have to be back here to meet Trevor, _and_ sneak out.”

“Well, two guesses where Clayton will be,” said Veronica, “And the Quidditch Pitch doesn’t count.”

Betty sighed. “Upper Common Room, then.” She squared her shoulders. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck when you’re looking like that, B,” said Veronica with a grin. “But I am going to request you tell me about the rest of Hogwarts male population when they catch a glimpse of you looking like sin.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like _that’ll_ ever happen.”

She perched on the edge of the tub, yanking on the ankle boots Veronica provided for the outfit, and checked her balance on the small heel by walking a few steps forward, turning, and then walking back to Veronica. She gave a satisfied nod, and pushed off from the shower.

They exited the bathroom together.

“Remember, use the disillusionment charm,” whispered Veronica, reaching for their dormitory door, just as Betty nodded and tapped her head with her wand. With the sound of a cracked egg and the slimy, gooey feeling of something liquid spreading over her, Veronica kept a keen eye on the space where Betty stood, waiting for the Disillusionment charm to complete.

Once there, she opened the door and made a production of leaving it open enough for Betty to breeze by. Adam and Ambrose, the only other two Hufflepuffs in their year in the common room, greeted Veronica enthusiastically, Ambrose holding up a pack of Exploding Snap.

“Wanna play a round, Veronica?” he asked kindly.

Veronica shook her head, letting her long black hair shimmer under the warm lights of the Hufflepuff sett. “Sorry, boys, not tonight. I’m meeting with Kevin.”

Ambrose’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded and when Betty glanced back, she saw Adam pat him consolingly on his shoulder.

“He’s totally into you,” she whispered to Veronica as they exited the Hufflepuff dorm.

“I could swear I heard something, but that can’t be because _no one is with me_ ,” muttered Veronica, glaring in the direction she heard Betty’s voice, despite Betty having moved from the spot.

Betty swallowed a giggle but lightly touched her friends’ shoulder and then left Veronica in the Entrance Hall; Veronica went to the Great Hall while she went up two flights to the Common Room. Betty glanced left and right, up and down the deserted hallway to ensure no one was watching – or spotted – her.

Just outside the door, she tapped her wand back on her head and the Disillusionment Charm broke. She no longer blended in with the grey stones around her.

She took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back and her breasts out, and pushed open the Common Room door. Her eyes darted back and forth, and spotted Chuck sitting by himself in one of the couches in front of the fireplace, scribbling on a long piece of parchment with Xs and Ox and dotted lines.

Betty trailed her fingers along the back of the couch as she approached, coming to stand next to his, by the far arm.

“Hey Chuck,” she said, bringing his attention to her.

Chuck’s head popped up from his Quidditch plans, and his eyes widened. She knew that the fireplace behind him cast a warm glow on her revealed skin and off her shining blonde hair. She bit her lip. “Can I sit?” she finished.

His eyes hardened, despite the lingering interest she read in them. “Not if you wanna discuss Veronica.”

Betty inwardly sighed. _This is going to be harder than I thought. He’s not nearly as dumb as I had expected_.

“Only insofar as I’ve been thinking lately,” began Betty, pitching her voice breathlessly and moving to stand at his knee, “on how I wanna be more like her.”

Chuck sat back, resting his hands on his knees, and Betty perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, deliberately careful of the shining, wet ink of his Quidditch plans by her hip. His eyes were drawn to his parchment, her tight jeans, and then up her body.

She repressed a shiver.

“You want be a bad girl?” there was skepticism in Chuck’s tone and she didn’t appreciate it.

Trying to avoid a nervous swallow, Betty leaned forward and dragged the tip of her finger across one of his hands.

“Maybe,” said Betty, looking up at him from under her lashes.

Chuck was not taking prisoners when he raised both his eyebrows. “Like your sister Polly was?”

Startled, Betty dropped character and leaned back, straightening her back defensively. Chuck caught the motion and chuckled darkly.

“Oh, yeah, Jason told us _all_ about Polly,” he said, a dark glint in his eyes that had Betty’s normal sense of flight-or-fight beginning to kick up. Her stomach clenched. “You know, prissy prude by day, freak in the sheets by night.”

Betty forced herself to relax. “Bad girls have more fun, right?”

Chuck frowned. “Yeah.”

“Maybe you can show me...?” asked Betty, leaning forward again, but this time angling her shoulders so that the gap between the blouse widened. Chuck’s eyes were immediately drawn to her cleavage, tantalizingly shadowed by the glow of the fireplace. His pupils grew.

“Yes,” he said, eyes glued to her chest. He then cleared his throat, eyes snapping up to her. “Yes, I-I can do that. Um - When?”

Betty suppressed a grin. _Success!_

“Saturday evening?” she offered lowering her voice, “After the memorial for Jason? We can... celebrate being alive.”

The suggestive tone was enough to convince Chuck. “Uh, your place or mine?”

“Oh,” said Betty, flustered and blinking heavily against the heavy mascara Veronica suggested she use to make her eyes rounder. “I was thinking at Reggie’s? At the party? After all, he has a pool... and a hot tub.”

Chuck swallowed thickly, and the visible bobbing of his Adam ‘s apple mesmerized Betty. If he wasn’t such a dick, she would’ve been attracted by the masculine gesture.

“I’ll be there. Definitely. Um...”

Betty’s lips curled. Had Archie or Jughead seen her, they would’ve recognized the smile as _devious_ , but Chuck did not know any better. “Hey, and don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

He audibly gulped. “C-Can’t w-wait.”

Betty slid forward, perching her bum on the very edge of the coffee table and leaned in between Chuck’s splayed legs, her hands resting on his knees as she used him to leverage herself up. She put her face close to his, and replied to his stuttering with a low, closed-lipped, “Mmhmm.”

He was nearly panting when she stood to her full height. “See you then, Chuck.”

The second she left the room, though, she leaned heavily on the wall outside of the Common Room, her heart pounding furiously in her chest and her stomach a rolling mess. She clenched her hands tightly, savouring the pinching that followed directly after.

 _Chuck Clayton is a slimy bastard,_ she thought with a shiver. She never wanted to do that again. She flicked her right wrist, and her wand slid out from her invisible, Notice-Me-Not wand holster.

“ _Tempus_ ,” she muttered, waiting for the smoky, glowing red numbers to appear from her wand. Almost immediately, the smoke coalesced to read _1743_ – and she had fifteen minutes to meet Trevor.

Betty managed to make it down to the Hufflepuff dorm in time, but decided against going inside – soon enough, Trevor stepped out, tucking his hands into the pocket of his brown coat.

“Betty, hi!” he smiled. “Ready to go?”

Betty nodded, and he stepped forward, only to pause and look her over from head to toe. He frowned, minutely, and she bit back a cringe.

“Um,” he began, bringing his eyes up to hers. “This... isn’t a... date, is it? Cuz if it is, I’ll need to change.”

Betty blinked quickly. “Oh! Um! Yeah, no. I um –” she blushed heavily and fidgeted. “I’m really sorry, Trev, I don’t think of you that way.”

He sighed. “Oh, thank Merlin.”

Inexplicably, a part of Betty was insulted and recoiled. Outwardly, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

Realizing that his sigh and words were taken as relief and potentially insulting, Trevor raised his hands and voice. “Oh! No! Not like that – I mean, you’re gorgeous, Betty, honest – it’s just, well... I’m not interested?”

“Is that a question or statement?” she asked, crossing her arms and cocking her hip out, but her teasing grin belayed the anger.

Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and offered her a grin as well. “Statement. Sorry – I’ve actually got my eye on someone else.”

“That’s alright,” said Betty, her grin smoothing into a genuine smile. “Let’s consider this a catch up that we haven’t had since school began. We can talk about Prefect rounds, and classes, and anything else.”

He knew what she meant by ‘anything else,’ and nodded amiably. “Sounds good. How do you want to sneak out?”

“Whomping Willow?” she asked.

He sighed and his shoulders fell. “Only for a bit longer, anyway. Once there’s snow out, that passageway is going to be covered.”

“Oh, live a little, Trev,” chided Betty, and together they left the dungeons and made their way across the Hogwarts grounds, through the passage, and found themselves quickly tucked into a corner of the Three Broomsticks, their order already taken.

“So, who is the lucky one?” teased Betty, playing with the straw of her Butterbeer as she peered over the bottle at Trevor, who blushed so heavily she could tell over his darker complexion.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” he replied instead.

Betty nodded.

He pushed a bit of his fries around his plate and whispered, “Cora.”

Betty’s eyebrows shot up. “Cora? As in _Cora Hale_ , Slytherin fifth year?”

Trev nodded. “And who doesn’t even know I’m alive. Hufflepuff/Slytherin couples rarely happen, you know.”

Betty sighed. “Yeah. I think my parents are the only ones I know of that were successful, and honestly, saying ‘successful’ is a bit of a stretch right now.”

Trevor eyed her. “You and Jughead Jones are close – that should count.”

“We’re not dating,” said Betty quickly, her heart thumping loudly. She wondered if she was as red as her cheeks felt.

“Mmhmm,” replied Trevor.

“Speaking of couples!” gasped Betty, looking away from Trevor and up at the dark ceiling. “I never thought Pol would date a Slytherin.” She made a tiny face. “Jason Blossom in particular.”

Trevor shrugged. “Jason wasn’t all that bad compared to some of the other Quidheads at Hogwarts. He was always pretty nice, actually.”

“That’s right,” said Betty, pushing her empty Butterbeer to the side. “You were both captains at the same time. Were you close? I know the captains usually confer often on pitch schedules.”

Trevor hesitated. He glanced around, and then leaned forward, lowering his voice. Betty leaned forward, too. “This is just us talking, right? Just because, I kind of feel guilty about it.”

Betty frowned. _Guilty?_

She widened her eyes to her most innocent-looking self, and nodded quickly. “Of course, Trev. Totally between us – you’re telling me in confidence.”

He frowned, keeping his gaze on hers. Then, he said, quickly, “A few months ago, Jason started acting all, like, weird and secretive.”

“Secretive?” Betty echoed. “Do you know why?”

Trevor shook his head, and then ran his hands through his curly hair, letting the weight of his head hold as he elbows propped him up. “I thought it was about your sister, to be honest. They’d been dating a few weeks when he changed.”

Betty leaned back in shock. “You think _Polly_ had something to do with his behaviour? How was he changed? In what way?”

“We stopped hanging out,” began Trevor, bringing his head up and then laying his hands flat on the table. “Jason wouldn’t owl or Floo me back, and then...”

He glanced around the pub again.

Betty followed suit, taking in how no one sat near them, and that the only other people in the Three Broomsticks were a few Ministry workers in robes that lived in Hogsmeade; a blond wizard in dragonhide robes nursing a glowing red drink across at the bar from Rosmerta.

Trevor continued, “Then he started selling off all his stuff. Anything he could sell for cash, he was hawking. Then I heard he was dealing drugs—”

“What drugs?” Betty interrupted, sitting up straight. Her nerves tingled with a journalists’ intuition.

Trev shrugged and sat back in the booth. “Muggle stuff: Weed, pills; and then potions and boomslang skin, and the like. I don’t know for sure, because by then he stopped talking to me.”

Betty too sat back in the booth. It was unheard of for wizards to partake in drugs – due to potential issues with one’s magic – but to know that Jason had dealt in it?

“And all this started after Jason and Polly got together?” she murmured, her thoughts turning inward. She didn’t hear Trevor’s confirmation, but knew it to be true.

“When was this?” she asked instead, facing Trevor.

He frowned. “Oh. Hmm. Maybe around April? But he really only started with the heavier stuff closer to the end of the school year, I think.”

“You said you ‘heard’ he was dealing drugs,” interrupted Betty, leaning forward and speaking with an intensity that had Trevor lean back a bit into the booth. “From who? Who told you?”

Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know! No one specific, anyway. I don’t think. Maybe the guys on the Slytherin team? Fangs, probably. Cedric would’ve known, being his best friend.”

Betty sighed and sat back. She looked down at the tabletop. “Sorry, Trev,” she murmured. “But this is the only lead I’ve got about what he and Pol were up to, and what may have caused them to fight.”

“Hey, I get it,” he said, reaching across the table to touch her hand lightly. “You’re worried for her. But believe me – if there was anything that Jason loved more than life itself – it was your sister.”

The two sat in silence for a bit. Finally, he shifted in the booth, squeaking the leather upholstery. “Shall we head back?” he offered, and together, they split the bill, counting the correct amount of galleons, sickles, and knuts between them.

They left the Three Broomsticks, hunched and buffered against the chilly evening air. The walk back to the Shrieking Shack was quiet, as was the journey through the passage and out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

It was only when they were near the castle did Trevor speak again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”

Betty shrugged, folding her arms in on herself and tucking her hands tight to her sides. She had forgotten gloves. “You gave me some more to think about, Trev. Thank you.”

He smiled at her, but it was pained; like disappointing her was the last thing he wanted to do. They entered the school, and stood still in the entrance hall for a minute, soaking up the warmth from the castle. Betty brought her red hands to her mouth and began blowing hot air on them.

“I have rounds tonight,” said Trevor instead, changing the subject as he turned to face Betty. “So head straight back to the Common Room, right?”

She smiled. “Got it. Don’t want to take points from a fellow Prefect.”

“Right,” he grinned back, taking a few steps and turning, heading up to the third floor.

Betty began walking as well, towards the dungeons.

“Hey, Betty, one sec!”

She turned, tilting her head curiously as Trevor strode back towards her. “What is it?”

“I almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his inner coat pocket. He withdrew a piece of folded parchment. “I promised you this, didn’t I?”

Betty frowned and reached for it, taking it in her hand. She started as Trevor caught her wrist with his left, ensuring she didn’t use her free hand to unfold the parchment.

“Trevor?”

“I –” he stopped, looking down. He took a deep breath and then looked up at her. “Just... keep in mind... it’s just a list, okay, Betty? It’s just a list. It doesn’t mean anything to most of us guys in Hogwarts. Really.”

Betty’s eyes narrowed and focused on the folded parchment, knowing what it was: Reggie’s completed list for his initiation.

She turned back to Trevor and he let go of her wrist. “I’ll keep that in mind, Trev. Thank you.”

He nodded slightly. “Have a good night, Betty.”

She waited until he began up the stairs to head back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. The common room was empty when she entered; _Adam and Ambrose must have given up waiting for Veronica to come back_ , she thought. Instead, she decided to sit in the common room on one of the squishy yellow couches in front of the fireplace, near a low-hanging plant.

She turned the folded piece of parchment over in her hand a few times. Her heart beat loudly.

 _It’s just a stupid piece of parchment_ , she thought furiously, wondering why such a tiny thing had so much control over her. _It’s a list of tasks. It’s stupid. Just read it!_

She carefully unfolded the parchment. She then smoothed it out, with trembling hands, and put it on the table in front of her. She leaned over it, and began reading.

At first, the list was innocuous.

_Steal a book from the library._

_Stay out after curfew and don’t get caught._

_Earn 5 points; earn 10 points for your House_

and so on up to one hundred in a single go; and conversely, the opposite for losing points. There were tiny checks next to them as Reggie completed them. Then, they began to change.

_Kiss someone from a different House._

_Sneak into the Prefect’s bathroom and make out with someone, naked._

_Masturbate in a broom closet and don’t get caught._

Then –

_Have sex in the library._

_Have sex in a classroom._

_Perform fellatio on your House table in the Great Hall._

_Bring someone to orgasm with just your hands in class._

_Have sex in the Forbidden Forest on the night of a full moon._

Betty’s eyes became rounder and rounder as she went down the list. A part of her was incredibly impressed Reggie had completed the entire one-hundred items halfway through their fifth year, but another part of her...

She bit her lip, hard, drawing blood. _I know why he laughed now when I mentioned Jughead was part of this._ Her eyes skipped from the innocent tasks for the first twenty or so to the incredibly sexual ones by tasks seventy-five onward. _As far as everyone is concerned, Jug has no one to do this with. It’s almost a guarantee he’ll lose his magic!_

She folded the list back up and stood, slipping it into the tight front pocket of her jeans.

 _What am I going to do_? She wondered, and then thought with more dismay, _what is_ Juggie _going to do?_

*

The answer to her questions didn’t miraculously appear in her dreams that Wednesday night; nor did anything else the next day. Betty attended classes, completed her homework, ignored Cheryl’s insults first thing ever morning at Dragon practice, and maintained her extracurricular with the Black and Gold.

On Friday, the entire school was buzzing with a strange energy that would only happen the day of Quidditch matches – and the opener of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was going to be a showstopper.

The cheerleaders had their routine as perfect as it could be for that evening; the players were as ready as they could be for the match; and the school was receiving a proper cleaning by the house elves and Mr. Filch in preparation for the large attendance of Ministry employees, press, and dignitaries that would attend. After all, they had to demonstrate that the magical population of Britain had nothing to worry about – just because a boy was _dead_ didn’t mean the world ended.

However – there was one person who didn’t experience the same nervous anticipation and eagerness of Quidditch: Jughead Jones. In fact, he was downright broody and miserable when Betty finally found him, lounging on one of the couches in the Black and Gold office at lunchtime – he was avoiding the Great Hall and the loud discussions of whether Gryffindor would trounce Ravenclaw (or the other way around).

“Hey,” greeted Betty, gently knocking on the doorframe to catch his attention. Jughead was shrouded in the shadows of the room, the couch pushed against the far wall opposite their murder board and kitty-cornered. Mid-afternoon light spilled through the four large floor-to-ceiling windows in the room, but at the angle, none penetrated his shadowed recess.

He tilted his head back, looking over his shoulder at her standing in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Can I come in, or do you want to be alone?” she asked quietly.

He gave a tiny shrug. “You can come in. It’s your office.”

Betty smiled, setting forward and shutting the door behind her. She walked over to him and sat at the other end of the couch, her back against the armrest instead of the back cushions. She lifted his legs, absently noting the heavy dragon-hide boots he wore instead of the standard issue dress shoes, and let them drop back on her legs so she was tucked underneath him.

His dark eyes caught hers, and Betty nearly swooned at the heady look he sent her. His tone was dark – but laconic – as he asked, “How was your _date_?”

The emphasis he placed on the last word made butterflies flutter around Betty’s stomach. _Merlin! He’s jealous!_

She cleared her throat. “Like I said, it wasn’t a date. Trev and I talked about his crush on a fifth year Slytherin, actually...”

“Oh?” Jughead sat up a bit more at this news, dropping one of his legs to the floor and using the foot as leverage to push himself into a lounging, sitting position.

Betty nodded. “Yeah. We ended up talking about Jason, actually.” She looked forward, eyes on a distant spot on the horizon through the nearest window.

Jughead hummed, waiting for her to continue.

“It turns out he was selling drugs,” said Betty, turning her head back to Jughead.

Shock flashed across his face, and then he frowned contemplatively. “Why does a rich kid sell drugs?”

Betty sighed, face turned away again, her voice bittersweet. “He was running away from his parents.”

Jughead glanced at her, and she flushed; perhaps she sounded a bit too wistful at the idea that Jason had the guts to do something about his parents while she allowed hers to control her life?

“Yeah. Probably,” said Jughead, eyes still on her profile, enough that she felt the stare burn into her. “Or drug dealers.”

Betty let out a startled laugh, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. She turned back to her oldest friend, eyes glittering despite the morbid topic. “Oh, Merlin. Is that possible?”

Jughead smirked. “It’s a theory... but yours is more likely.” He then paused, running his hand absently along the back of the couch. Betty’s eyes followed its path, the long fingers stroking the fabric and she swallowed thickly.

_What would those feel like, on me?_

“But why would he have to run away from mummy and daddy?”

She startled and, knowing what she did about the Blossoms, burst out, “Because they’re monsters.”

Jughead’s hand stopped moving and she wasn’t sure if she was ecstatic or depressed about that. He began to tap out a random tune with his fingers instead. “Yeah, but why, specifically?”

Betty tore her eyes from his hand to look at Jughead’s face. He had his head tilted back, eyes locked on the ceiling as he thought. Betty took the moment to observe him, eyes tracing over his long face, the strong chin she could so clearly see in his position, and the roundness of his cheeks.

“Well, we can’t exactly just ask them,” she quipped, wondering what Jughead would say next.

His head lolled down. “So we have to ask Jason.”

“Juggie... I know we attend a _magical_ school, and there are ghosts around and the like, but...” she trailed off. “Are you proposing a séance...?”

He huffed a tiny laugh. “No. Dead men tell no tales.”

“Unless they’re a ghost,” she replied.

He gave her a tiny smile. “Yes, unless they’re a ghost, Betts, well done. But their bedrooms, their houses...?”

She stared. “You want to search Jason’s bedroom?”

“Why not?” he asked. “The memorial will be a perfect opportunity. When else will we be in Thornhill? And everyone will be so busy that no one will notice two kids sneaking off.”

Betty wet her lips as she thought. _There should be enough time, between the memorial and Reggie’s party. We can sneak around and learn some things and then I can go home and get ready for that evening._

“Betts?”

Betty jerked her head up at her name – and saw Jughead staring at her, his brows furrowed and eyes dark. “You don’t have to do this with me if you don’t want to.”

“No!” she burst out, and then mentally recoiled at the firm reply she gave. She tried again, gentler, “No, that’s not it. I was just thinking about the timing.”

“Timing? Of the memorial?”

She nodded. “A bunch of us will be going to Reggie’s after, and V and I are going together. So I was thinking whether or not I’ll have time to get ready.”

Something passed over Jughead’s face. “You’re going to Reggie’s?”

“Yes?” she replied hesitantly.

A scowl slipped onto Jughead’s face. “You’re not exactly friendly with the guy.”

“No, I’m not,” replied Betty slowly, cocking her head just to the side as she observed her friend. He was beginning to slip into the same expression he wore when Veronica mentioned her date with Chuck: disgust. “Jug – is this about the oath?”

It was as if she electrified him – his other leg immediately fell to the floor and off her lap, and he stood so quickly that she only had time to blink. He reached for his satchel and had it slung up and over his body, and he was walking towards the door before she even _thought_ about standing.

“I’ll see you later, Betts,” he called behind him, striding out of the Black and Gold.

She sat with her mouth open, eyes stuck on the door where he disappeared. She then crumpled forward in the privacy of the office, exhaling shakily and putting her face in her hands.

*

Veronica was wearing a ridiculously bright red hat with gold piping. Both Kevin and Betty were equally horrified and impressed with it, but if anyone could wear it well, it was Veronica. The colours meshed well with her long black locks.

“Showing pride for a different House is a sin,” commented Kevin lightly, eyes stuck on the large hat.

Veronica eyed his bright red and gold scarf. “If I had to choose between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, I’d pick Gryffindor; and not because you or Archiekins are members.”

“Are you implying you’re not studious, V?” teased Betty as they approached the stands, already filling up with a swarm of either red-and-gold or blue-and-bronze. They made their way to the Hufflepuff stand, where traditionally the Hufflepuffs cheered for the Gryffindors; the Slytherins, of course, would never support the house of lions, and were actively waving banners of blue around.

“Please,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I can achieve Os in anything, B.”

Betty and Kevin shared a look behind Veronica’s back as she led them both up the rickety stairs, finding a spot near the steps, and settling on the wooden bench.

Betty sat next to Veronica and Kevin sat next to her; the late afternoon light was enough that the players would be playing in daylight, but evening was coming earlier, and the chill of the Scottish highlands had already begun to seep into Betty’s bones.

“Here,” Kevin said, unfolding and fluffing out the blanket he brought, tossing it towards Veronica who tucked her end under her hips and thighs, while he did the same on his end. Betty was a snug bug in the middle of them.

“Hopefully Halfstone catches the snitch quickly,” muttered Kevin, referencing Gryffindor’s third-year seeker. “Otherwise they’ll be playing in the dark and it’ll be impossible to find the damn thing.”

He glanced at his wrist, where his heavy wind-up watch sat, and Betty leaned closer to him to whisper, “Are we still meeting...?”

“At seven,” he replied through stiff lips and then refused to speak more.

 _“WITCHES AND WIZARDS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE SEASON HERE AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY!_ ”

The perky voice of Midge Klump rang across the grounds, and the students in the stands let up a roaring cheer in return.

_“PLAYING THIS AFTERNOON IS GRYFFINDOR VERSUS RAVENCLAW; FOR THOSE OF YOU WONDERING, THE HUFFLEPUFF/SLYTHERIN MATCH WILL TAKE PLACE AT THE END OF OCTOBER, SO MARK YOUR CALENDARS._

_“MADAM HOOCH AND MISTER CLAYTON ARE ON THE PITCH. RAVENCLAW, THE QUIDDITCH CUP CHAMPIONS FROM LAST YEAR, ARE FACING A STRONG PRIDE OF LIONS THIS SEASON, LED BY CAPTAIN ARCHIE ANDREWS. AND – THE BLUDGERS ARE RELEASED, AS IS THE SNITCH. THE QUAFFLE IS... UP AND HERE WE GO!_

_“FOR GRYFFINDOR, WE HAVE NANCY WOOD AS KEEPER; STOP BACK THOSE QUAFFLES, GIRL! THE CHASER LINEUP IS STRONG THIS YEAR WITH ARCHIE ANDREWS, REGGIE MANTLE, AND TOMOKO YOSHIDA. BEATING BACK THOSE BLUDGERS ARE ACE MACDONALD AND MOOSE MASON, THE BASTARD—”_

“Miss Klump!”

_“SORRY, HEADMISTRESS, I MEAN MOOSE MASON, MY EX-BOYFRIEND, WHO IS CLEARLY DIVIDED ON CERTAIN ISSUES BUT HOPEFULLY NOT WHAT TEAM HE BATS FOR—”_

“Miss Klump, _really_!”

Kevin slouched down in the stands and Betty patted his shoulder consolingly as a few heads turned their way. Although his ears were half-hidden by his shoulders and the popped collar of his jacket, Betty could see that they were still red.

_“I MEAN, I’M SURE IT WAS AN HONEST MISTAKE, AFTER ALL IT WAS DARK – AND STARTING THIS YEAR IS NEWCOMER NERO HALFSTONE AS SEEKER. FOR RAVENCLAW, OUR ILLUSTRIOUS (AND RATHER SEXY) HEAD BOY THESODIOUS TADPOLE LEADS THE WAY AS KEEPER WHILE CAPTAIN FLETCHER FOLEY MAKES A SWEEPING START TO THE SEASON AS CHASER.”_

Thesodious, hearing Midge’s praise, waved in the direction of the faculty stand and blew it a kiss; Reggie scowled and broke formation with Archie and Tomoko to face the Ravenclaw Keeper, and a firm look of determination settled across his face. Moose, however, turned bright red, matching his Gryffindor robe.

“Oh dear,” sighed Betty.

Veronica, eyes glued on the chasers through her omnioculars, asked, “What?”

“Reggie’s always had a rather open crush on Midge,” responded Kevin, “And he’s not going to take her open admiration of Tadpole over her on/off again boyfriend well. It’s one thing when it’s his friend and it’s Moose – but it’s another when it’s someone else.”

“This game is going to be _excellent_ ,” happily sighed Veronica. “I miss a little blood sport in my life.”

They missed the rest of Midge’s commentary on the Ravenclaw team, instead caught up in watching the fast-paced flying of the two teams.

 _“AND ANDREWS PASSES TO MANTLE – WHO PASSES TO YOSHIDO – WHO PASSES BACK TO ANDREWS AND –_ SCOOOOOORE!! _– TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!_ ”

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff section of the stands leapt to their feet, cheering loudly. Archie did a victory lap, waving and then swooping under Reggie to fly in a V, against the Ravenclaw chasers who had possession of the quaffle.

Moose, flustered by Midge’s very public calling out, was still an excellent beater and with Ace MacDonald, together they caught the bludgers and aimed them at the Ravenclaw formation. One dodged to avoid the bludger and the other dropped the quaffle; Reggie appeared directly underneath and quickly sped away, back towards the three goalposts, swaying left and right to confuse Thesodious which he’d pick to throw the quaffle through.

“When are you and Ronnie supposed to be on the pitch for the cheer routine?” asked Kevin absently, eyes on Moose.

“Within an hour,” replied Veronica from Betty’s side. “Which is either because the match is going on too long, or because it’ll be over. At this rate, it’ll be too long.”

Betty sighed. “No sight of the snitch, then?”

“None, and neither Halfstone nor Rosier know what they’re doing,” commented Veronica.

Kevin glanced at her. “You know, for someone who said she prefers Quodpot, you’re very interested and knowledgeable of Quidditch.”

“I had a boyfriend at Durmstrang who was a Quidditch bookie,” replied Veronica absently, completely missing Betty and Kevin’s dropped mouths. “It ended when I realized I could handle the odds better than he could and he fudged some numbers.”

She turned her head to them briefly and smirked, “I _am_ a Lodge.”

Betty stifled a laugh and Kevin shook his head. Above them, the Gryffindors scored another ten points, bringing their total score up to 80-20. Betty leaned back and saw Archie, in his tight white Quidditch trousers, tucked into the brown boots, swerving this way and that, his red Gryffindor robes streaming out behind him like a comet’s trail.

As she gazed at him, he began to change – her mind began to supply new information and his red robes turned green, and the red and gold knitted jersey underneath turned green and silver. Archie’s red hair darkened to black, lengthening and a long, wavy strand fell over his eyes. He tossed his head back to brush it out of the way and let go of the handle to sit back on the broom, confident and secure.

A flush crept up Betty’s neck and cheeks as she realized whom she was picturing.

 Instead of a chaser, her fantasy Quidditch playing Jughead was a seeker, focused intently on finding the small golden ball, his eyes bright and sparkling at the thrill of the challenge. He swooped into a dive – a Wronski Feint, maybe – his lithe body angled alongside and parallel the broom, hands tightly gripping the handle. He reached out and Betty pictured the way his long fingers tucked around the small, fluttering snitch.

“Hello? Betty? Owling Ms. Cooper?”

Betty blinked and turned her head. Kevin, smirking, stopped snapping his fingers.

“Welcome back,” he grinned. “It’s six-thirty.”

Confused, Betty looked around her and saw that many of the students had either lit their wands with a _lumos_ to beat back the encroaching darkness; spotlights lit up the Quidditch pitch and the score had jumped to 150-90 while she daydreamed.

At her other side, Veronica had put away her omnioculars and folded the blanket. She also wore a wide grin on her face. “What were _you_ thinking about, B?”

Betty’s flush turned into a raging blush. “Nothing.”

“Uh huh,” said her female friend. She nudged at her shoulder. “C’mon, we need to change into our uniforms and meet Kevin’s source.”

“ _Shhhh_!” the taller Gryffindor hissed, looking around furtively, but everyone around them was focused on the match above.

There were some grumbles as the three stood and began to carefully make their way along the bench towards the stairs, but they escaped the stands unscathed. At the bottom, they turned to the Quidditch lockers, leaving Kevin standing by the bottom of the stairs near the Hufflepuff stand while Veronica and Betty entered the lockers ( _again_ , Betty noted), but this time they went right instead of left.

Cheryl and the other cheerleaders were lounging in the women’s change room, and she cast a look at the two.

“You’re almost late,” she drawled, smoothing the skirt of her uniform with blood-red tipped nails.

“And yet we’re still here,” replied Veronica lightly, moving to her locker. Betty’s was next to hers; the first name of _Polly_ crossed out and replaced with a sloppy _Betty_ on top. She bit her lip at the sigh and Veronica scowled.

“Ignore it,” she whispered to her blonde hair, and Betty did so despite the anger beginning to bubble within her.

It was easy to slip into the uniform: there were two separate pieces, a long-sleeved top and pleated skirt, both in black with grey trim and gold lettering. A giant H at the front for Hogwarts blazed across the chest.

Betty tightened her ponytail when she was done and Veronica ran a critical eye over the uniform, nodding her acceptance.

“Let’s go meet Kev,” she said, shutting her locker door and catching Cheryl’s attention.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked cattily, standing from the bench she was lounging on and putting her hands on her hips.

Veronica eyed the redhead and said, “Betty and I are getting some fresh air. It’s a bit stale in here.”

Cheryl fumed. “Ten minutes, bitches. We go on the pitch at seven oh five exactly. If you’re late – you’re _out_. Got it?”

“Crystal,” replied Veronica frostily, grabbing Betty’s upper arm and pulling her from the locker room.

Kevin stood straight when he saw them, half-hidden in the shadows of the stands and wooden beams. He was not alone.

As they approached, Betty inhaled quickly, recognizing the young man with him. He was not in Hogwarts uniform, and his all-black clothing choices would’ve marked him as an outsider; however, it was the leather jacket he wore that ensured he stood apart.

“Betty, Veronica,” began Kevin, and Betty could tell he was nervous. The young man with long black hair smirked at them. Betty saw Veronica’s mouth drop open at her side from her peripheral, and knew she recognized him from the previous week at the Twilight.

“You’re—” she tried to start, but Betty nudged her in the side.

Kevin shot Betty a grateful look, and said, “This is Joaquin. He’s got the Polyjuice for you.” He paused, took a deep breath, and finished, “And he’s my boyfriend.”

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thought - do you lot want shorter chapters? Or are these the right length?
> 
> In terms of updates - I will be needing some extra time before the next chapter as I am attending a translation workshop all next week for university -- so that will take some time unless I get super bored and end up writing fanfiction instead!
> 
> Also - if you haven't yet already seen _Wonder Woman_ , GO DO IT NOW. I legit listened to the soundtrack on repeat for this chapter. I freaking love "Trafalgar Celebration" -- _the feels. THE FEEEEELS_.


	13. Thorny Plots Thicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went overboard, watched cheerleading YouTube videos, and rewatched _Bring it On_ for the beginning of this chapter. If cheerleading isn't your thing, skip the entire part between the linked lyrics to the music video I reference, until the capitals of Midge's Quidditch play-by-play. Plot wise, you're not missing anything.

*

 [They see their destination as lightning splits the sky over Hill House, giving it an ominous cast. The car engine stops]

 **Miss Scarlet** : Why has the car stopped?

 **Professor Plum** : It’s frightened.

-  _Clue_ (1985)

*

Veronica slanted a heavy, loaded look at Kevin, who refused to look anything other than stubborn, standing next to the slightly-older-than-them Serpent. Betty cleared her throat and said, politely, “It’s nice to meet you, Joaquin.”

He tipped his head in her direction, but moved the conversation forward. “You wanted Polyjuice?”

“That’s right,” said Veronica, stepping forward and speaking authoritatively. “We need something for an hour.”

“Both of you?” Joaquin looked skeptical, eyes casting doubt as they rake over both Betty and Veronica in their cheer uniforms. “One bottle of Polyjuice is meant to last an hour for one person. If you split it, you’ll retain some of your original features and it won’t last as long.”

“Well, for a hundred galleons, that’s a risk we’ll have to take,” retorted Veronica, crossing her arms.

Betty bit her lip. One hundred galleons was a lot of gold to be throwing around for a single bottle of black market potion – albeit, a notoriously difficult potion that took a month a brew. “Do you still have the hair samples, too?”

“We’ll take it,” replied Joaquin, reaching into one of the front pockets of his leather jacket, and pulling out a murky bottle and an envelope with the two strands of hair they requested.

Veronica took it and inspected it, holding it up to the light, and then pulled the stopper, taking a whiff. “Yeuggh,” she said, nose twisted and head tilted away. “That’s Polyjuice, alright.”

She nodded at Kevin, and he withdrew the sack of gold he had in one of his jacket pockets, their unofficial intermediary for the transaction. He passed the sack to Joaquin, who weighed it, and nodded in satisfaction.

“Ladies,” he said, looking them both in the eye. “Pleasure doing business with you. Remember – you’ll retain similar features to whomever you have the hairs from, and it won’t last long.”

“We’ll remember,” promised Betty. “Thank you.” She turned to Veronica. “We need to get on to the pitch, V.”

Veronica nodded, handing the bottle to Kevin for safekeeping. He took it, and waved goodbye; obviously, he was remaining behind with his boyfriend for a bit of time alone while everyone’s eyes were on the Hogwarts Dragons cheer squad.

The two met with Cheryl, Ginger, Tina, and the rest of the squad at the bottom of the stands, in between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sections, which were separated above by the faculty and visitor’s box, creating a reverse, bridge U. The entrance underneath would be where the squad passed through onto the green ground of the pitch.

There were no half times or quarterly breaks in Quidditch; while performing, the two teams would remain playing above them and the girls would also have to be aware of any rogue bludgers, or the possibility of the snitch sneaking down to hide among them. Being a cheerleader at Hogwarts was dangerous.

“Positions!” shouted Cheryl, and Betty moved opposite of Veronica, just behind Tina. She could hear Midge’s voice blare across the grounds, introducing the Hogwarts Dragons Cheer Squad, but the words were lost in the accompanying roar from the crowd.

Then—music blared around the grounds and Cheryl bounced forward, a wide grin on her face. Betty followed Tina, her own, perfected fake smile on her lips as she focused her eyes forward and pushed her pompoms in the air.

_“[Turn it up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2V6yjjPbX0)!”_

She stood beside Tina, with Ginger on her other side, began shifting back and forth in time with the music and each snare clap, right heel to step, and then left heel to step.

Then, the fast pace lyrics kicked in, and she followed the routine: a swivel of her hips, cocking her head just so and eyeing the Slytherin stands enticingly, just as Cheryl instructed. She then went in reverse, facing the other direction towards Hufflepuff, repeating the same moves.

Her arms went out in front of her, level with the ground and she wriggled her pompoms up and down, scissoring them parallel to the ground a few times in time to the music, before dropping them to the ground at her feet. She followed through with a high kick, flicking her skirt up as she did so, and spun to face Ginger, hands on her knees and bouncing in her spot just before the chorus hit.

“ _‘Cause you don’t even know—”_

Betty popped up with the next lyric and raised her arms above her head, and facing Slytherin again, clapping in time with Fitz and the Tantrums, alternating back to Hufflepuff. “ _I can make your hands clap / Said I can make your hands clap_.”

She skipped forward during the verse, crossing diagonal paths with Ginger to move to the front of the two lines of cheerleaders, meeting up with Bunny Evans and Lotti Little; she and Lotti knelt and braced, and then lifted Bunny. Betty grabbed her ankle for support and she and Lotti hoisted Bunny up, the bottom of a V to her X.

Cheryl and Cricket were also in lifts. The three of them then pointed at each of the four Houses and their stands starting with Gryffindor before finishing with Ravenclaw; each time they did, the accompanying House cheered as loud as they could. At the end of all four, they pointed up at the Quidditch players above them, and everyone cheered again.

Bunny led the clapping as the chorus repeated, encouraging the stands to follow through – which they did with gusto. Then, as the bridge came on, Betty and Lotti let Bunny drop, through a spin to land cradled in their arms. With a gentle pop from them, she landed on her feet as the three stood in a triangular formation, their moves slow and measured as the song’s tempo slowed down.

The three dropped to the ground, kneeling, folding forward into splits, and sweeping their arms before raising them for the claps. Slowly, Betty, along with the other girls, began to rise from their split, standing once again as the bridge concluded, “ _Get on my knees and say a prayer: James Brown / (That I can make your hands clap)_.”

What followed was the hardest routine Betty thought she would ever have to learn: the actual choreography from the music video, something Cheryl had seen when the song first came out and decided to make it the opener for 2016 Quidditch season.

The Dragons stood in two rows, staggered thanks to the three-person lifts. Betty was in the second row – while Veronica was diagonally in front of her, between Bunny and Cheryl – and thankful as anything that she wasn’t front and center. Betty kicked her feet and leaned back, flicking her wrists out _just so_ as Cheryl made her practice repeatedly. She wind milled her arms, lifted her leg, and clapped with her arms in front of her, landing hard on the leg that was in the air to kick back with the opposite leg.

She did a hop and turn, barely ninety-degrees, and moved from facing Hufflepuff to face Ravenclaw, as well as Cricket O’Dell, who grinned at her and winked, her freckled face splotchy and red from exertion. They both did the intricate running man move again.

Betty’s fake smile slipped into a wide, real one, and she breathlessly laughed, hopping again and bringing her legs straight up behind her so hard she accidentally kicked herself in the behind. When she stuck her landing, she turned and faced Gryffindor. The routine called for a starfish facing forward to Hufflepuff and Slytherin, but this time the girls from the back moved forward until they were slotted in the spaces between the front row, and Betty stood next to Veronica.

They exchanged grins, and hooked their arms. Then—

Betty cocked her right hip behind and kicked her left leg out, and they were doing a high-kick can-can. They alternated the kicks a few times during the second bridge, and then Betty (as well as Cricket on Bunny’s other side) dropped into a split just as the chorus came on again.

Veronica and Bunny remained standing, but quickly hopped to the side to move directly behind Betty. Veronica dropped into a crouch but made sure she was elevated enough to be seen above Betty’s and Bunny stood tall behind. Cheryl stood tall with Lottie and Cricket in the middle of the formation, and on her other side was tiny May Tadpole in the splits, Tina in the middle, and Ginger standing. Each group of three clapped in time to the beats on the song, and in between made a few Sphinx-like arm movements and then dabbed left, then dabbed right.

 The repeated first bridge, in its slower tempo came on again, and this time the girls all moved in practiced slow motion, Veronica and Bunny hauling Betty to her feet, stepping back to form a row of three: Betty, Veronica, and Lottie, each with their legs spread. Bunny and May hopped up, their feet on either side of the girls’ on their hips, and stood with their arms crossed. Cheryl and Tina stood in front of the pyramid, with Cricket and Ginger behind.

They did some vague Madonna Vogue motions in slow, and Cricket and Ginger tumbled through Betty and Lottie’s open legs, landing on their knees on the other sides of Cheryl and Tina, mimicking the gestures.

When the final verse and chorus came on, the girls abandoned the pyramid by hopping safely off and moving into two rows, clapping and free dancing but no one was paying attention by that point – Nero Halfstone was in a near nosedive from high above, the Ravenclaw seeker in hot pursuit.

Then—

_“AND HALFSTONE CATCHES THE SNITCH FOR GRYFFINDOR, ADDING ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY POINTS. THE FINAL SOCRE? THREE FORTY, GRYFFINDOR; RAVENCLAW, ONE TEN. FABULOUS GAME, ALL – WHAT A GREAT START TO QUIDDITCH SEASON.”_

Betty, panting, remained standing for a few more seconds. Cheryl then turned from the front of the line and with an arch of her brow, dismissed them. Betty sagged, and tried to catch her breath.

 _Why did I think cheerleading would be fun, again_? She thought. All she wanted to do was fall into her bed and crash.

“That was _exhilarating_!” gushed Veronica, coming to Betty’s side and hugging her friend tightly.

“How are you not winded?” gaped Betty. She felt sticky and sweaty, and she was sure her face was beet red.

“An excessive amount of pilates prepped me for this,” replied Veronica with a toothy grin. Her eyes drifted to the inner pitch, where the Gryffindor team had landed, cobbled together in a group hug as the celebrated their win. “Are we going to the Gryffindor party tonight?”

Betty shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m exhausted. I think I’ll just take a bath and call it a night.”

Veronica pouted. “B, no fun! You won’t come to even be my wingwoman?”

“No way in Hades,” retorted Betty, shaking her head. They had walked over to where they dropped their pompoms and picked them up. “You’re on your own for that.”

Veronica bit her lip, eyes darting back at the Gryffindor team, who had broken up and were slowly making their way towards them, as they were in the way to the lockers.

“No hard feelings?” asked Veronica quietly, looking back at her friend.

Betty gave a small, soft smile, close to biting her own lip as she knowingly looked at Veronica. _I see where this is going. You’ve got my blessing, V._

“No hard feelings,” confirmed Betty, her smile widening into a grin. She nudged Veronica’s shoulder and Veronica nudged her back with a squee.

The Quidditch team caught up to them, flushed with pride and happiness toward their win. Archie ran a hand through his hair and greeted them. “Ronnie! Betty! After party in Gryffindor, yeah?”

Betty shook her head, nearly hurling Veronica in front of her childhood friend. “I’m going to get an early night, Arch, but I’m sure V will be happy to go represent Hufflepuff.”

“Oh?” asked Archie, turning to Veronica. “You joining us, Ronnie?”

She coyly looked down and spoke from under her lashes, “I could be persuaded.”

Betty gently extracted herself from the two, moving to the side and watching as they continued to speak to one another, oblivious to everyone around them, until Betty was behind the large crowd moving back to Hogwarts.

Darkness had fully fallen by now, and she had only the lights from the Quidditch pitch to illuminate her path to the locker room. She took her time, walking off her sore and aching muscles from the routine and letting the sweat cool on her skin, breathing in the cool air. She tilted her head back and looked up at the inky sky, picking out the constellations from her old Astronomy class.

“Hey, Torrence Shipman,” called a familiar voice from the shadowed recess beside the locker. “Nice lifts!”

Betty grinned, peering into the gloom until Jughead stepped out, arms folded and a tiny smirk on his face. Her heart stuttered at the knowledge that Jughead – although not a fan of Quidditch – had come to the match and stayed long enough to watch her perform.

“Are you intimidated?” she replied with a specific line, wondering if he knew the response.

Jughead’s smirk turned into a grin. “Yeah—a little.”

The two burst into laughter.

“I never took you as a _Bring it On_ kind of fan,” giggled Betty. “Isn’t the 2000s a bit past your cinematic prime? I mean, it was only the year we were born.”

Jughead grimaced. “Let’s not tell anyone, okay? Jellybean went through a cheerleading phase a few years ago when she learned Hogwarts had a cheer team.”

“Is she still coming next year?” asked Betty, stopping in front of him. “She’ll be eleven soon, right?”

Jughead nodded. “Next summer, in August. And probably be Sorted into Gryffindor, just to give me an abundance of grey hair.”

Betty laughed. “Well, I look forward to it.”

“Speaking of looking forward to things,” began Jughead, shoving his hands into his pockets, “When are we meeting tomorrow?”

Betty frowned. “For the memorial, right?”

“Yeah,” said Jughead, something strange in his tone. His eyes were hooded and shadowed, due to the lights hanging outside the locker room were behind him.

Betty wasn’t sure how to interpret it. Biting her lip, she decided to take a chance. “Well, how about you meet me at my house? At ten-fifteen? That should give us enough time to walk over to Thornhill.”

Jughead paused. The silence between them was heavy and heated, and Betty felt her cheeks grow warm again, feeling just as red as when she was performing. “Sounds like a plan, Betts.”

“Good,” she replied, a bit breathlessly.

They stood staring at each other for a bit. Then, Jughead cleared his throat. “Did you... would you...” She peered up at him. “Can I walk you back to Hufflepuff?”

“I’d like that,” she said. Jughead waited as she dashed into the locker room to grab her clothes, but she didn’t change; once back outside, they walked in a companionable silence to the entrance hall, and then down into the dungeons towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked outside the barrels, turning to face her.

She nodded, hesitating.

His eyes flicked down, and she felt her breath hitch. _Was he...? Is he going to...?_

Instead, Jughead swallowed heavily and rocked back on his feet, taking a step back as well. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, and then he turned and left her standing in the darkened hallway with a heavy sigh.

 _Tomorrow,_ she thought.

*

Betty woke up with gritty and puffy eyes; she hadn’t slept well – her dreams were filled with odd images of Jughead, Thornhill, coffins, and roses. At some point, Veronica had returned from the Gryffindor party with a sour expression on her face and a harsh snap of “I don’t want to talk about it,” when Betty mumbled if she was okay.

She planned to get ready in the familiarity of her childhood bedroom, leaving Veronica a note on her bedside table, and quietly crept out of the dorm room in her Muggle clothes and an overnight bag slung across her body.

The walk from Hogwarts to her house was quiet; there was no breeze that morning, and a fine layer of frost crystallized the grass with tiny pellets of ice that morning. Her steps were hard against the solid ground, her breath coalescing in front of her as she breathed in and out in the October air.

She didn’t particularly want to go to Thornhill for Jason’s memorial. She didn’t know Jason – except through Polly – and she never ran in the same circles as the Quidditch crowd with the exception of Archie, and the extension of Reggie and Moose in Gryffindor. She barely hung out around the Ravenclaws or Slytherins (Jughead excluded) in all her years at Hogwarts, despite always hearing about Jason Blossom.

Cheryl, of course, she could not escape as the Head Cheerleader for the Hogwarts Dragons, and because with Jason’s death, her mother was on a rampage at the _Daily Prophet_ to uncover whatever dirty secrets about the Blossoms that she could. Betty sighed.

At the door to her family’s house, she pressed her palm on the door, letting the wards and magic read her signature. Once, it frightened her when her mother used Selwyn magic. The blood wards weren’t strictly considered legal, and the Selwyns had no sons to pass their magic onto as heir presumptive to the Ancient and Noble House (they were still part of the Sacred 28, despite her mother marrying a Muggleborn), so Alice was given permission by her grandfather Archimedes, to browse the family spell book.

Polly didn’t care for family spells – more interested in her status at Hogwarts and what to do after graduating – but Betty, bookish by nature and often introverted (again, it baffled the family that she ended up in Hufflepuff) – eagerly took to her grandfather’s spells.... many of them Dark in nature.

She wasn’t unaware of her family’s past; there were still a few families at Hogwarts with Death Eater ties: hers, the Evans twins in Slytherin, perhaps even the Lodge’s. Even so, there were a few with ties to the Order of the Phoenix as well: Jughead’s great-aunt, his grandfather’s sister, was Hestia Jones; as well as Theodosius Tadpole’s family. But as Jughead said, they weren’t their parents, and she strove to be as removed from that past as possible.

But that darkness – that heady feeling that rose within her when she was angry – one that was happening more and more often – scared her. She had a capacity for darkness and the drive for the Selwyn spells that frightened her and made her think, _Wendy was right; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree_.

It was a thought that remained with her as she dressed for the memorial, a black dress with lace overlays that contrasted sharply with the blonde of her hair, which she left down and wavy. She was applying a layer of mascara when she heard a knock on the front door and her father answered it. There was some muffled noises of conversation between Hal and (who she assumed was) Jughead, and then she heard his feet on the steps.

“Are you ready to enter the belly of the beast?” he asked, a suffering note in his tone. She turned around instead of glancing at him through her full-length mirror, and then felt her heart stop.

He wore a suit. Granted, the jacket didn’t quite fit him, hanging loosely off his shoulders and around his chest – _probably his father’s_ , she thought idly – and his trousers were big on his waist, held up by matching black suspenders that contrasted against the crisp white of his dress shirt. His ever-present beanie gave his entire outfit a whimsical feel.

She bit her lip, failing to hide the appreciation in her gaze when her eyes finally finishing roving his body and met his eyes.

Bashfully, he flicked the jacket out of the way and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What? It was the best I could do.”

“You look great,” she replied, reaching for her discarded purse on her bed, slinging it on.

He scratched at his cheek and blushed. “Uh, thanks.” His eyes flicked up at her. “You look beautiful.”

Betty blushed, heat creeping across her cheeks and down her chest at the compliment. She had been waiting for something – a sign of some sort, anything – to indicate he was interested in her. She was almost sure he was ready to tell her he wasn’t, that time in the projection booth at the Twilight.

“Hey, you two! Let’s get going!”

Betty startled as her father’s voice called up the stairs. Jughead moved out of her bedroom first, waiting for her on the landing outside her room and looking down the stairs at Hal, who stood at the bottom peering up.

“I’m going to side-Apparate you both,” he said. “It’ll save us the time to walk through Hogsmeade.”

“Thanks, Mr. Cooper,” said Jughead, letting Betty pass him, his hand hovering just over the small of her back as she descended the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, Hal motioned at Jughead. “You first, Jughead,” he said, and when Jughead nodded, Hal reached out and wrapped a hand around his arm. With a loud _pop_ they disappeared from the foyer. Moments later, Hal – keyed into the Cooper family wards – appeared and did the same with Betty. There was a tight squeezing sensation, like paste pushed through a toothpaste tube, and then she was next to Jughead, just outside the Thornhill Mansion’s gates.

The leaves were beginning to fall off the many trees that lined the winding path to the brown brick mansion, and the climbing vines along the older building were bare and spindly brown snakes creeping along the outside of Thornhill. Betty shivered in her pea coat, and beside her, Jughead flattened his lips.

Hal sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hal greeted Penelope at the door with a bland, tiny smile and a fake, “I’m sorry for your loss,” that fooled no one on the stoop. Penelope Blossom’s eyes narrowed, but as a perfect Pureblood host, she griped Hal’s hand tightly and replied, “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Betty and Jughead rushed past her, through the large entrance hall while Hal went straight to the bar in the reception room off the side where Jason’s coffin lay surrounded by white flowers and framed by large colonial windows in the conservatory.

There were two sections of seats of six set up with a center aisle; Archie was already seated between Val and Kevin near the edge of the section and away from the aisle. Betty and Jughead slipped into the seats behind him and Kevin.

“Glad you guys made it,” whispered Kevin, turning in the seat to eye her and Jughead sitting relatively close. He glanced at her but Betty shook her head to his unasked question. He sighed.

“Where’s Veronica?” asked Archie, glancing behind her, as if she remained in the foyer.

Betty frowned. “Back in the Hufflepuff dorm, I guess? I left before she got up.”

Archie frowned back, and Betty saw Val reach out and place her hand on his thigh. Her eyebrows shot up, and then she turned to look at Kevin.

 _When did that happen?_ She mouthed, tilting her head at her childhood friend and the Pussycat.

Kevin glanced beside him and then mouthed back, _Last night. She kissed him in the common room._

Both of Betty’s eyebrows went sky-high. _No wonder V was in such a bad mood when she came back to the dorm last night_.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Archie twisted in his seat and stood, moving down the aisle and stopping before Penelope Blossom. She couldn’t hear what they said, but she definitely noticed when Cheryl’s mother reached up and smooth a flyaway piece of Archie’s red hair before yanking her hand back quickly, a grimace of pain spreading across her face.

Archie handed over a perfectly folded and pressed jersey – _must have been Jason’s_ , she thought, recognizing it when Polly sometimes wore it home – and then Archie was walking back to his seat.

Kevin leaned forward a bit and whispered, incredulously, “Did she just touch your hair?”

Betty leaned forward to touch Archie’s shoulder, catching his attention. He leaned back and she said, “That was really sweet, what you did.”

Archie’s lips pulled down into not-quite a frown. “She deserves it, more than I do.”

At that moment, Veronica breezed down the aisle, and slid into the first row, just in front of Val. With her makeup perfectly done, and her voice perfectly toned, she said, “Days like today really put things in perspective, huh?” She looked at her friends in their eyes and then flicked them forward at the shiny black coffin, which held Jason’s body. “I mean, at least we’re here. At least we’re alive.”

Betty swallowed and sat back. Jughead reached over and wrapped his hand around hers, and squeezed. She looked at him gratefully, before her eyes tripped past to her father standing at the bar, taking a sip from his glass as Clifford Blossom leaned in and whispered something to him. Hal stiffened angrily, and then rolled his eyes.

 _What in Merlin’s name?_ She wondered, but before she could contemplate her father’s strange reaction to the Blossom patriarch, a commotion at the back of the conservatory drew everyone’s attention.

“ _Yes_!” breathed out Kevin, rapturously eager for some new drama that didn’t involve him, as Cheryl, wearing the white dress she wore when Jason disappeared, walked down the aisle to the podium for her speech.

Betty didn’t pay much attention to what Cheryl said, although her emotions were genuine, especially when she threw herself on Jason’s coffin.

 _There’s no way she’s involved in his murder_ , thought Betty, critically eyeing the weeping redhead, who smeared her makeup. She glanced at Jughead, and saw that he too was frowning. _Time to strike her from the murder board. She’s a bitch, but not a murderer._

Cheryl’s parents stood, and Penelope, with a tight, pinched look on her face and a glare that caused Cheryl to hiccup, spoke loudly as she addressed the room. “I think we’ll adjourn now to the Winter Salon for a light supper.”

Jughead nudged her as the people around them began to stand slowly, speaking in low murmurs. “Now?” he whispered under his breath.

Betty bit her bottom lip, but nodded.

Together, they moved quickly away from their friends and behind a large group of people clustered by the door, using them as cover. They spotted Fred Andrews hovering in the front foyer, but then Veronica’s mother, Hermione Lodge, called out, “Hey,” and Fred’s face lit up, and the way was clear.

Jughead led the way, creeping up the large staircase until they reached the top, then indecisively paused, wondering which way to go.

“Left,” whispered Betty, from behind him. She pointed down the hall. “Polly told me Jason’s room overlooked the pool and Eversgreen forest, and that’s _that_ way.”

Jughead nodded and opened the first door on his right. It revealed a bathroom. On the other side of the hallway, Betty did the same and opened her door to an unused guest room. They continued to quickly and quietly open the doors they came across – Jughead quickly closing a room decorated in blacks and blood red, being Cheryl’s – until Jughead reached the right one.

The door creaked open, and nervously, they glanced behind. The hall was empty, and the low din of voices from the reception had faded, leaving them alone. They inched forward into the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar in case anyone wandered upstairs.

Betty shivered. “Is it me, or did the temperature just drop?”

Jughead scoffed quietly, eyes already darting everywhere in the room, from Jason’s perfectly made bed, his wardrobe, his bookshelves. “That’s just the icy chill of the dead.”

Betty sighed. “Where does a teenage boy hide things?”

They moved further into the room and Jughead spoke quickly, “Under the mattresses. Maybe in the drawers, or behind the headboard, in the closet.”

Betty moved straight for the bedside drawer while Jughead moved around the bed to the shelving unit. Finding nothing but a stack of _Sports Illustrated_ , Betty moved around the large bed and joined Jughead, about to crouch to check under the bed against her better judgment.

“Hello.”

 _“Fuck_ ,” gasped Jughead, just as Betty startled and whirled towards the sound. Behind her, Jughead grabbed her shoulders and hauled her against him.

“Merlin – I’m so sorry, we were just leaving,” gasped out Betty, eyes wide. From the darkness in the corner of Jason’s bedroom, behind the open door, an elderly woman crept forward, her wheelchair making no noise against the carpet. She had a single streak of red in her hair, her face lined with her age, and cloudy, milky blue eyes.

“Oh, it’s you,” she rasped, her chair coming to a rest near the end of the bed. She held her hands out and made a grasping movement. “How lovely to see you again. Come closer, I want to get a good look at you.”

“The horror, the horror,” shuddered Jughead from behind her, but when she began to move, he urgently whispered, “Betts, _no_.”

Betty swallowed and took a few shallow steps forward, until she was at the edge of the bed, Jughead trailing behind her.

“Come closer, Polly dear,” the woman – whom Betty realized was Cheryl’s grandmother – urged with her reedy voice.

 _I can’t believe I’m about to do this_ , thought Betty, but she plastered a tiny smile on her face and sat herself on the edge of Jason’s bed, hiding a shiver as she did so. “I’m sorry it had to be under such terrible circumstances.”

She stretched her hands out and the Blossom grandmother grasped them tightly, a supernatural strength in her bony hands that shocked Betty. She instinctively jerked her hand back, but the older woman just eyed her, and then her hands.

“Well, of course you’re not wearing it,” she said, and her tone indicated a strange mix of approval and exasperation. “Bless.”

Betty frowned, glancing up at Jughead in confusion. He shrugged. “Wearing what?”

“The ring, Polly, _the ring_!” there was definitely condescension in the tone. “That ring has been in the Blossom family for generations. You keep it close to your heart, always. But don’t tell Penelope I gave it to you.” The tone changed to secretive amusement. The Blossom grandmother’s lips twisted into something dark as she let go of Betty’s hands to make a snatching motion in front of her face. “Or she’ll likely come and snip it off your finger!”

Betty cringed back. “I won’t, I promise.”

The Blossom grandmother sighed and began to wheel herself back, away from the bed. “Such a shame. Your wedding was the last thing I was living for.”

Betty gasped.

“I lost a grandson, but you... you’ve lost the love of your young life. Poor child.” She wheeled herself back into the corner, looking around. “Have you seen Dewey? Where’s Dewey, my dear elf?”

Emotions swirled through Betty at a rate she couldn’t identify, but one thought blared loudly at the forefront of her mind: _Polly and Jason were engaged to be married_.

Her face must have been a sight, because Jughead immediately stepped forward, a hand outstretched towards her. “Betts...”

“Excuse me,” she gasped, and then she ran from the room. She had no knowledge of how she ended up back in the Winter Salon, or how she found her father. She barely remembered leaving Jughead behind.

Hal took one look at her and was then striding across the Salon until he was at her side. “What is it? What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Jughead?”

Betty shook her head, her mouth open but no words came out.

Hal wrapped an arm around her and drew her off to the side, his green eyes concerned, and the lines on his face deepening. “Betty, speak to me.”

“I –” she gasped, eyes wide. “Can we go? Please? Now?”

Hal frowned, but nodded. “Do we need to get Jughead?”

“No, he’s...” Betty took a deep breath. “I’ll see him later tonight, I’m sure.”

Slightly mollified that whatever happen to Betty was not due to the young man she was spending time with, Hal nodded and together, without saying goodbyes, they left the Salon and strode through the foyer, ignoring everyone else who lingered until they were outside.

They didn’t speak, and concern overrode common sense. Hal Apparated them directly from the front stoop of Thornhill to the front stoop of their house in Hogsmeade. The side-along Apparation created a loud _pop_ that broke through the silence of the neighbourhood, startling the Andrews’ krup, Vegas, next door, into a few loud barks.

Hal yanked the door open and was ready to usher Betty into the living room, when Alice appeared from the kitchen in a rush.

“What? What is it? What happened?” she asked frantically, eyeing her husband and daughter.

Betty stopped walking. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

Alice frowned. “What wouldn’t I be doing here, Betty? This is my house.”

Even Hal looked troubled. “You left a week ago to your father’s.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “And now I’m back. Or is this an interrogation?”

“No,” said Hal carefully, “Something bothered Betty at the memorial, so we came home right away.” He turned to his daughter. “What was it? What happened?”

Betty shakily moved to one of the couches in the living room and sat, shoving her trembling hands under her thighs. Her mother, arms crossed, sat on the couch opposite while her father stood. It was déjà vu to the last family discussion they had, when her mother stormed off to the Selwyn family estates.

Betty focused her attention on her father instead.

“Dad – Jason and Polly were engaged. Did you know that?” His face didn’t change, and Betty’s mouth dropped open. “ _Merlin_ , of _course_ you did! Is that what you and Clifford Blossom were talking about?”

Hal’s face shuttered, and his eyes went cold. “That is none of your business.”

Betty felt tears building, as well as her anger. “Yes, it _is_ my business – it’s about Polly! So stop avoiding it and just tell me what’s going on!”

“You want to know? You want to know that badly?” snapped Hal, running a hand over his face. He groaned, shook his head, and muttered, “You and your mother – two peas in the same pod, I swear to God...”

He took a deep breath, an angry flush on his face. “Clifford and I were arguing because he and his _filthy_ clan came this close—” he raised a hand and held his thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart from other another to indicate his point “—to destroying our family. Your little friend Cheryl’s great-grandfather murdered yours, Betty.”

“She’s not my friend,” muttered Betty petulantly, crossing her arms, and then asked, “Why?”

“Why?” echoed her father, shaking his head in disbelief. “The same reason they do everything. Greed and hate. They were in business together, selling and trading elf wine. And one day great-grandfather Blossom decided that he didn’t want to share the profits. So he murdered my grandfather in cold blood.”

Betty glanced at her mother, who did not look shocked at all. _She must have known this_ , she thought, betrayal blooming in her stomach at the importance of that family secret kept from her. “But granddad was a Muggle... is that why you hated Jason? Because of some blood feud that happened before you were even born? Between Muggles and wizards?”

Hal frowned and made an angry sweep around their living room. “They stole our livelihood, Betty. And I’d die before I let them steal my daughter, too.”

Betty grasped onto that. “Where is she? Where’s Polly?”

“She is sick!” roared Hal. “And Jason made her sick. And she’s not coming home until she isn’t sick anymore.”

They were silent, staring at each other.

Finally, Betty jutted her chin and stood. “If you excuse me, I need to get ready.”

“Get ready?” repeated Alice, standing as well, and crossing her arms. “For what?”

Betty turned her green eyes on her mother, refusing to cower. “Reggie Mantle is throwing a party tonight and I made plans to go.” She glanced at her father. “Or did the Mantles do something to the Coopers, too, that I should be aware of?”

Hal loudly exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was tired. “No, Betty. The Mantles don’t have anything to do with our family.”

She nodded, once, and then hurriedly exited the living room, taking the stairs two at a time until she was in her bedroom, the door shut behind her. She leaned against it, her head tilted back.

With a sigh, she moved to her closet and pulled out her outfit for that evening – the first of two. One she would wear to Reggie’s, making sure everyone saw her, and then the second she would change in to.

If all went to plan, Chuck Clayton wasn’t going to be a problem for the girls at Hogwarts anymore – and that was something Betty had to focus her all on. Not only was her reputation at stake if the plan failed, so was Veronica’s, and even worse, if she failed, it would be like failing Jughead, an unwanted participant in the blood oaths that Chuck so gleefully participated in.

And if there was something she wasn’t going to do, it was let Jughead Jones down.

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all - I'm on [tumblr; writing_as_tracey](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com/), so come say hi! 
> 
> Shit's about to get real in the story, and I'm beginning to drop hints on how it's going to end (or what direction I'm going in, bwahah). Don't ask about my 10+ pages of notes in my Google Drive, including the calendar I made with information of what happens on what day.


	14. Taking on the Mantle of Chucking Clayton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betty goes "full dark, no stars", and by definition, Chuck is slightly tortured. Friendly neighbourhood PSA here.

*

XIV: Taking on the Mantle of Chucking Clayton

*

 **Lori** : [walks in] What are you girls doing?

 **Carrie** : Destroying a man.

 **Lori** : Who do I make my check out to? [Kate’s mom walks out]

 **Beth** : Your mom is SO HOT!

\-- _John Tucker Must Die_ (2006)

*

Betty went to Reggie’s mansion at the pre-approved time; she and Veronica would arrive separately, make a show of greeting each other in front of a large crowd, and then Reggie would help them disappear into a room he already set aside for them to use and change in, far away from any wandering guests.

She was still vaguely unsettled by the idea that Reggie Mantle of all people was willing to help her and Veronica – but despite his general arrogance, he was willing to help people out when they asked for it.

When she left her house, her parents were shut in the living room, whispering back and forth in hushed voices and made no move to notice their daughter walk straight out the front door, an overnight bag filled with her secondary outfit, as well as a few other things tucked in it. Her plan was to sleep at Veronica’s in the Pembroke, an upscale inn that wasn’t above a pub like the Three Broomsticks, and then return home Sunday afternoon.

Reggie lived further down the street than Thornhill; the entire area where the richest of the rich in Hogsmeade lived was away from the lake and closer to the mountainside, providing the mansions with extraordinary views of the Black Lake, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts. It took Betty twenty minutes at a fast pace in the chilly October air to walk from her house, near the Lake, to the Mantle mansion.

When she arrived, the lights were all on, and a thrumming bass crept through the air and settled deep in her bones. She saw fairies hovering and lighting paths up to the mansion in bushes and trees along the main walkway.

An elf stood at the front door, checking everyone who entered with a solemn air of vague disapproval – but it was common knowledge that Reggie’s parents were often out of the country on “business” and left the mansion to the whims of the house elves and their son.

As she approached, the elf stood a bit straighter. “Is you's Miss Betty?”

Betty nodded. Her mother’s family had elves at the Selwyn estate, but she never felt comfortable around them. “I am. What’s your name?”

“I’s be Ludi,” replied the elf kindly. He – Betty could tell it was male – had large bulbous eyes and floppy ears, but his toga was well-taken care of – not stained or damaged – and Betty inwardly was relieved that Reggie at least took care of his elves unlike others. “Master Reggie asked Ludi to take Miss Betty’s things.”

“Oh,” said Betty, slowly handing off her duffle bag to the elf. At his glance at her jacket, she sighed, undid the pea coat, and handed that over as well, feeling strangely bare and cold in the entranceway in just her Cooper-approved outfit. “That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

Ludi snapped his fingers and her bag disappeared. “Ludi is welcome, Miss.”

Betty glanced into the dark and smoky interior of the mansion. She could see a few people lingering around the foyer, but most were in transit between rooms. “Has Veronica Lodge already arrived?”

Ludi nodded, his ears flopping. “Ludi last saw Miss Veronica in the parlour.”

“He has a parlour, of course,” muttered Betty. She nodded at the elf. “Thanks.”

The interior of the Mantle mansion was very different to Thornhill – the Blossom family home was about tasteful, refined elegance and displaying their status. The Mantles demonstrated their wealth with donations to charities and well-placed mentions in the _Daily Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly_. As such, their house was a mishmash of furniture from different eras and designers.

The music – something pop-ish and distinctly Weird Sisters – carried through the foyer and the first room Betty looked in, her eyes adjusting to the dark as she tried to spot Veronica. Eventually, she found her with a red Solo in her hand, grinding up against Kevin under the strobe of the lights Reggie had (or had his elves do) strung up.

“B!” Veronica screamed over the music, arm outstretched and reaching for her. Betty stifled a smile and moved towards her and Kevin, the latter looking up with a grin and moving away so that Veronica could stumble directly into her arms.

“V, have you been hitting the drinks?” asked Betty, concern creeping into her tone. There was no point of her taking the Polyjuice if she was just going to throw it all up.

“Just a little,” she grinned.

Betty looked at Kevin.

He held up his hands, which were empty. “She hit them the second we walked in, Betty.”

“V, we can’t do the plan if you’re drunk,” sighed Betty. “What brought this on?”

Veronica scowled. “Ginger assholes.”

 _Oh_ , thought Betty. _This has to do with Archie and Val_. She bit her lip – she should’ve seen this coming, but there was nothing for it now. Veronica would need to sober up within the next hour. Betty took the cup from her and gingerly passed it to Kevin, who took it with a grimace.

“Make sure she doesn’t drink anything else,” she ordered, and with a scared look, he nodded. After all, he was the one who had the Polyjuice for them to take later.

For the next hour, she and Veronica spent the time glued at each other’s hips, avoiding Chuck who commanded a part of the party with his friends – she recognized the Evans twins, Moose, and a few others from Slytherin – while Reggie floated from group to group (or after Midge, who wasn’t paying any attention to Moose). At some point, Archie and Jughead arrived. They remained together, either standing by the bar or avoiding the larger groups by sitting on one of the couches in the many rooms. Then, Betty spotted Cheryl, spending time with Josie near the toilets, who was trying to cheer her up after the memorial.

When Val appeared at Archie’s side and led him to the makeshift dance floor in the large ballroom that overlooked the in ground pool and terrace, Veronica immediately did an about-face and moved towards the bar in the corner.

Betty and Kevin hurried after her.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Betty, catching up to her and wrapping an arm around her to steer her away and towards the ballroom entrance instead. Kevin trailed after them. “It’s been an hour, you’re feeling a bit better, and we need to make our big kerfuffle before disappearing.”

“He’s not worth it,” added Kevin, casting a despairing glance behind at the oblivious redhead, who was dancing with Val. Jughead, on the other hand, had rolled his eyes and disappeared out towards the pool and terrace, until Betty lost sight of him.

Veronica scowled and crossed her arms. “He’s a disgusting flirt.”

“That he is,” agreed Betty.

A catcall had them turn their heads. Chuck leaned against a nearby table, a glass of Odgen’s in his hand. The golden liquid was smoking slightly, shot through with red – providing a reason for the name _firewhiskey_.

“Trouble in paradise, V-Lo?” chuckled the Slytherin. The group around him laughed. “Looks like you’re riding the broomsticks pretty hard – or was your polish too used for Andrews that he moved on to something shinier?”

Veronica drew her lips back in a snarl.

“Ronnie, let it go,” muttered Kevin, hovering at her shoulder.

“Yeah, Ronnie,” mocked Chuck, “Let it _all_ go.”

Veronica found it easy to lunge towards Chuck, needing no amount of acting to display her rage and anger over his remarks. Kevin lunged after her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back. A few other people in the room began to look over, and Betty saw that one was Reggie; Archie and Val had stopped dancing to watch, and Archie looked like he was one step away from rushing to Veronica’s side.

While Veronica reached forward with clawed hands to grab at Chuck, he instead whipped his wand out and pointed it at her, Kevin struggling to pull her back.

“V!” gasped Betty from the side.

Reggie appeared and helped Kevin, wrapping an arm around Veronica and using his height and strength to remove her from her friend and block her from seeing Chuck.

“That’s _enough_!” the tall Gryffindor shouted. “I won’t have anyone casting any spells in my house! There will be no bloodshed! Not when we’re supposed to be honouring Jason!”

Contritely, but breathing hard, Veronica flicked a piece of her hair out of her face but nodded. Reggie turned to look at Chuck, who made a show of sliding his wand back into his holster, stepping back.

“No worries, mate,” he said, moving to his circle of friends.

Reggie nodded at him too, and then, with Kevin, led Veronica from the room. Betty started after them – this was the perfect distraction they needed to begin their plan – but Chuck stopped her.

“Hey Princess!”

Betty grimaced at the nickname but turned partially to look at Chuck.

“Are we still on for later?” he asked, and his Slytherin friends all made ‘ _oooo’_ noises. “You don’t want to miss your opportunity to be more bad than good – and I can be _very_ bad, Cooper.”

The allusion to their conversation earlier that week, as well as Polly, made Betty boil – but she had a role to play too. She ducked her head a bit, smoothing a hand down her modest sundress with a high neck. “I guess you’ll have to come and find me.”

Chuck strode forward, leaning over her and lowering his voice, “I thought there were something said about a pool or hot tub, Cooper. Don’t disappoint me now.”

Betty bit her lip and shyly looked up at Chuck, hoping she looked bashful instead of repulsed. “Thirty minutes? I don’t think many people are out by the hot tub. It’s off to the side of the pool, in that small alcove.”

A satisfied smile slid across Chuck’s face, and he nodded. “Until then.”

Betty said nothing, turning on her heel and quickly striding after Veronica, Kevin, and Reggie, but they were gone from the hallway when she left the ballroom. A tiny elf popped into existence next to her knees, and pointed up, and then down the hall towards the kitchens.

“Use the elf stairs, Miss,” it whispered, and Betty followed it as they took a winding path down the first floor hallway, into the kitchen (where several house elves were frantically running around, making food and replenishing drinks), and then towards a back corner.

The elf tapped on a section of wall that looked like a cupboard. It panel popped open, revealing a steep set of curving stairs – a butler’s staircase.

“Thanks!” said Betty, taking them carefully up, until she reached the door at the top. She turned the knob and peeked out, but the entire upstairs hallway was quiet and empty. The same elf popped in again as soon as she opened the door fully, and pointed down the hall.

“Third door,” it said, and then disappeared.

Betty approached the indicated door, knocking once. Kevin opened it, eyes furtive. “Did anyone see you?” he hissed.

Betty fought the urge to roll her eyes. “No, Kev,” she said at normal level, making him twitch. “No one saw me.”

Kevin reached forward and yanked her inside the room. Reggie was sprawled on the bed, reclining back on the many pillows with his hands behind his head. Veronica was pulling out her chosen outside, and already had Betty’s hanging on the wardrobe knob.

Reggie whistled. “You sure you want to do this, Tinkerbelle?” He nodded towards her outfit.

Betty turned to it, critically eyeing the black lingerie and push up shelf bra, as well as the matching black lacy underwear she was going to use and double as her swimwear. There was some cover thanks to the garter belt.

“It’ll catch his attention and throw him off long enough that he won’t realize what’s going on,” she replied, mouth in a firm line.

Veronica glanced up from her one-piece bathing suit, which had several strategic cut-outs. “How much time do we have?”

“About twenty minutes to the hot tub,” replied Betty.

Reggie swung his legs over the bed and sat up. “You’d best get ready then. I’ll have Keddie show you a quick way down away from the party.” He exhaled heavily, eyeing the two girls. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“He needs to be stopped,” said Veronica evenly, holding Reggie’s gaze. “You heard what he said to me downstairs.”

Reggie frowned. “Yeah...”

“It’ll be okay,” said Betty, stepping forward and touching Reggie tightly on the arm. He stared down at her hand for a moment before shaking his head.

“Fine. Whatever.” He turned to leave. “I’ll make sure everyone’s outside for the right moment. Just keep an eye on the time.”

Veronica immediately turned into the bathroom before Reggie even left, leaving Betty and Kevin to stare at one another. Kevin, worriedly, had messed up his hair and gripped the back of a nearby chair to hide the tremble in his hands.

“How are you going to get him to talk?” he finally asked.

Betty eyed him. “Do you really want to know?”

“I’ve already helped you and Veronica purchase an illegal potion on the black market through my gang member boyfriend, despite being the Head Auror’s son,” said Kevin dryly. “I think I’m committed now.”

Betty grinned, pulling her duffle bag forward and motioning towards it. “I brought the Selwyn family spell book with me.”

Kevin stood straight. “Betty. Your mom’s family – it’s well –”

Betty looked down. “I know,” she whispered, “and there’s a spell in here that... loosen inhibitions.”

“I’m sincerely hoping you mean _tongue_ for talking, and not – other inhibitions,” snapped Kevin, his nerves making his voice crack.

“I sure hope so,” muttered Betty in return, running a finger down the brown leather cover of the book in her bag.

“Have you two even thought what could happen if this goes wrong?” asked Kevin quietly, moving away from the chair.

Betty shrugged. “That’s why we’re here, at Reggie’s. His elves are going to keep an eye out on things, and you know – and Reggie knows – and we’ll disappear quickly once the Polyjuice wears off and Chuck confesses.”

“Merlin,” muttered Kevin. “I hope this all works out.”

“Me too,” agreed Veronica, coming out of the in suite bathroom. Her makeup was darker, as well, with smokey eyes and red lipstick. “B, your turn.”

Betty grabbed the outfit hanging on the wardrobe and went into the bathroom, quickly changing into it and then staring down at her breasts, which were on display far more than she was used to. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and started.

Her eyes were wide and her face was pale.

She looked scared.

“You can do this,” she whispered, clenching her fists against the edge of the countertop. “You can do this. You _have_ to do this. For Veronica.” She paused, looking into her green eyes, with conviction. “For Polly.”

She left the bathroom and posed in the doorway. “What do you think?”

“Smokin’ hot, Cooper!” whistled Kevin, and Veronica cheered, taking Betty’s hands in hers.

“We’re going to knock his socks off,” the dark haired girl said. She turned to the bedside table and motioned at the bottle of Polyjuice. Beside it were two quills. “Are you ready?”

Betty nodded.

Kevin held the bottle up to a nearby flickering lamp, checking the amount of liquid in it. He then tapped his wand on the bedside table, and the quills began to shudder and twist and turn until they resembled two small shooters. Betty was impressed with Kevin’s transfiguration.

He poured half of the Polyjuice into one shooter and the rest in the other, and then opened the envelop Joaquin gave him, dropping one dark strand of hair in one shooter, and then the blonde in the other.

The liquid bubbled a moment, and then settled.

“I think Betty should take the dark hair one,” said Kevin, handing that over to her. “And you can take the blonde, Ronnie.”

“Any reason why?” Veronica asked, taking the glass.

Betty did the same with hers, holding it aloft, and staring at the thick brown sludge.

“You’re going to retain some features, right?” he said, glancing between them. “Might as well do the best to change your hair colour and make you both look as different as possible.”

Veronica shrugged, catching Betty’s eyes. “Ready?”

“Down the hatch,” replied Betty, squeezing her eyes tightly together and pinching her nose with her free hand. She shot the entire potion back in one go, but it was thick and heavy on her tongue, like curdled yoghurt, and definitely tasted like a mud pie Archie and Jughead made her eat once on  dare.

Betty leaned forward, breathing heavily through her nose not to gag. Beside her, she heard Veronica retch, and then fall to the floor on her knees. Betty’s insides began to burn, and her skin bubbled. Searing pain made her fall to her knees, then she felt her skin stretch, her hair itch, and her eyes watered.

“Holy Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred,” breathed Kevin above them. “You both look so different.”

“Start the clock, Kev,” croaked Betty, her voice huskier and deeper than her normal, higher pitched tone.

“Thirty minutes, not a second more,” he said immediately, giving them leeway. “V, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” came Veronica’s reply, in a European-accented voice.

The two girls looked up at one another and Betty’s mouth dropped open. Veronica looked like a Nordic goddess, with long light brown hair and a muscular body. She fit the one-piece bathing suit even better than she had in her normal body.

“You look—” Veronica shook her head. “Your face is kind of the same, but you’ve got this short black-haired bob, B. And you’re super curvy.” A glance down at her chest had Betty blushing scarlet. She was practically spilling out of the cups now.

“You need to both go,” urged Kevin, helping them stand with a hand. “Hurry.”

Tripping over their heels, the girls exited the room quickly, getting used to their strange legs, the height and weight differences, but found Keddie, the elf Reggie had mentioned, waiting for them at the end of the hall.

“This ways,” she said, opening another panel wall to reveal another staircase.

“How many secrets does this place have?” muttered Veronica to Betty as she descended the stairs, carefully framing herself by holding onto the wall as she went down the narrow passage.

“Honestly, I don’t think I want to know,” replied Betty.

At the bottom of the stairs, they pushed open the wall and stumbled onto the concrete of the terrace that surrounded the hot tub. The tub itself was on, warm water bubbling and steaming in the cool night air. Surrounding the hot tub by three sides were tall bushes; the fourth side was a wrought-iron gate, covered with creeping vines that didn’t lose their leaves in winter. Overall, it was incredibly private.

“He better keep to the plan,” muttered Veronica, sliding into the water quickly and with a hiss.

Betty frowned. She wasn’t sure if Veronica meant Reggie, or Chuck.

As if her thoughts summoned him, Chuck sauntered through the gate, pausing when he saw the two girls – one already in the tub – and not the one he was expecting. He frowned. “You’re not Betty.”

Betty gave a slow, sultry grin. She began walking towards him, the heels and push up bra focusing Chuck’s attention elsewhere. “Betty couldn’t make it – she’s keeping Veronica company right now. She sent me instead. Besides, we talked it over, and I decided it’s time to start learning to share.”

She reached Chuck and ran a finger down his chest.

He gulped, looking from her to Veronica in the tub. “Nice.”

Betty grinned, looking at him from under heavy lashes. “Isn’t it? It gets very, very hot.”

“Come on,” called Veronica from the tub, holding out a very wet hand as she raised it from the water. Droplets splattered in the clear liquid. “Let’s get wet.”

On cue, an elf appeared behind Chuck, with a small rolling drink table and a bottle of Blossom elf wine, as well as three glasses. Included was Betty’s wand, which she initially had to leave upstairs while changing into her revealing outfit.

“Does Reggie know you ladies are here?” asked Chuck, yanking off his shirt and toeing off his shoes and socks.

“Why wouldn’t he?” asked Veronica, keeping Chuck’s attention on her and not Betty, who stood by the drink cart. She palmed her wand, head tilted and waiting for the right opportunity.

Chuck paused. “I thought this was a party for Jason – to remember him.”

Veronica let a sly grin slip over her face. “And what a way to remember someone who passed by being—” she moved forward through the tub and pushed up, water rushing off her body. Chuck’s eyes followed it and she moved her head up to his face. “—so _alive_?”

Chuck eagerly divested himself of the rest of his clothes except his boxers, sliding into the water and immediately Veronica moved back, creating space.

Betty turned, her wand pointed at Chuck’s back and head. She wet her lips and murmured, “ _Verum locus_.” A silvery stream of smoke shot from her wand and hit Chuck in the head. He swayed a bit, and shook his head. She then said the next spell. _“Sonorous.”_

“What was that?” he asked, bringing a wet hand up to his forehead.

“Are you alright?” asked Betty. She uncorked the bottle of elf wine. Chuck turned at the sound and she held the bottle out. “What do you think, stud? Interested in a little fortitude?”

Chuck eyed her. “I don’t need anything.”

Betty shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“I will,” he replied, and Betty saw the sheen overtake his eyes as the spell took hold. She met Veronica’s eyes and nodded.

Instead of going in the water with Veronica, Betty remained on the cement terrace. She knelt, leaned over Chuck and teased him by speaking directly into his ear, a soft whisper, “How are you feeling, Chuck?”

Chuck groaned and stretched back. “Good. _Real_ good, if you know what I mean?”

“I think we do,” said Veronica, her tone dark as she glanced down at the water. She made a face. Betty made an equally disgusted face.

“Are you sure we can’t turn up the heat a bit for you?” she asked instead.

“I can handle the heat,” replied Chuck, eyes closed as he relaxed in the water and clearly. His tone indicated the intended double entendre.

Betty grinned. “Oh, good.” She glanced at the elf, which remained near her but out of sight of the Slytherin in the hot tub. The elf nodded and snapped its fingers, and the water began to bubble a bit more.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Chuck, eyes opening. “Hey, ladies. It’s really hot in here.”

“And getting hotter by the minute,” agreed Betty. “By the way, Chuck – Why don’t you tell us what happened between you and Veronica?”

“What? Why?” he asked, turning to face Betty, but Veronica moved in the water and his eyes were drawn to her. “You don’t know those witches, right?”

Veronica shrugged and the water moved. “Passing acquaintances, but call us curious.”

Chuck eyed her, but said, slowly and truthfully as the spell intended, “We had a good time. _Veronica_ had a good time.”

“Now, Chuck,” said Betty, drawing his attention as she hunched on her heels. She leaned forward with her arms and the position had her breasts pushed up together. “We both know that’s not the truth.”

She reached forward and grasped his chin tightly in her hand, her nails digging into the flesh. His eyes widened. “The truth, Chuck, or so help me, I will boil you alive.”

“What?” he gaped, eyes firmly focused on the dark haired woman in front of him. He stuttered, “We made out.”

The water began to grow warmer with a flick of Betty’s finger towards the elf, and on the other side of the tub, Veronica climbed out, dripping wet. Chuck’s eyes darted to her.

“And then?” asked Betty, shaking his chin a bit and drawing his attention.

Chuck flailed in the water, yanking himself from her grasp on his chin and leaving three streaky lines of blood that dribbled down his neck and into the bubbling water.

“And then I took her home!” he shouted. “Merlin, what the fuck is this? Why is it so warm?”

“It’s as warm as it’s ever been,” said Veronica coolly. “Besides, can’t you handle the heat?”

“Ladies – c’mon!” he pled, in the middle of the tub, glancing at them both warily.

“Tell us more, Chuck,” continued Betty, slowly rising from her crouch. “Did Veronica ride your – _dragon_?” the word was said with a twist of disgust.

“No! Merlin, okay?” shouted Chuck. “No, she didn’t ride my dragon!”

Betty smiled. “That is all you had to say, you ass. And now – everyone will know.”

“What?”

She continued, ignoring him, indicating to the hidden elf to warm the water again. “You like shaming people, Chuck?”

“Whoa, hey – listen—”

“Do you like dehumanizing them? Prissy prude by day, freak in the sheets by night?”

Veronica’s eyes went wide as she stared at Betty, who flicked her hand again. Chuck sputtered and moved to the edge of the tub. Betty frowned and stuck her foot out, clad in her heel, and shoved at Chuck, hard. He fell into the water.

When he rose, he sputtered, “No!”

“Apologize!” Betty demanded.

Chuck sputtered again and moved to climb out, on the opposite side. Betty darted around, blocking him.

“Hey,” he snapped, turning to Veronica, who hovered uncertainly. “Get this bitch—”

Betty shoved at Chuck again with her foot, with enough power that he fell against the opposite side of the small hot tub with a grunt. “Say you’re sorry! Say you’re sorry for all the times you lied – telling people that you slept with girls but didn’t really!”

Chuck stared at her. “Wait! What, what?”

“Apologize for ruining those girls’ reputations with that stupid list!” she continued, breathing heavily.

“What the hell?” he muttered, eyes wide.

“Say you’re sorry for destroying their lives! Apologize for what you did to me!”

“Merlin – I’m not –!!” Betty moved over to the other side of the tub, closer to where he was. Immediately, Chuck raised his hands.

 “Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for all of it!”

Between the rising steam in the cool air, Betty and Chuck stared at one another. Betty’s form was rigid, but at his admission, her body began to sag.

He slowly got out of the tub, staring at her. “You are crazy. Merlin! You’re crazy as hell!”

Betty turned and strode to the drinks cart, touching her wand and thinking, _finite_ , to end the spells she cast on him.

She didn’t look as he edged past her, gathering up his clothes as he did so and nearly tripping on his way out through the gate.

Veronica waited until he was gone, then asked, “Betty?”

Betty heaved a shaky sigh at her friends’ voice, which was no longer accented. “I’m fine. We’re done here.”

Betty looked at the elf, who snapped its fingers, the drinks cart disappeared, and the tub stopped bubbling. She then turned to Veronica, whose long brown hair was shortening and turning dark. “Do you think everyone heard?”

She shrugged, and her muscle definition began to shrink. Betty was sure she was slowly returning to her normal shelf. “Only one way to find out,” replied Veronica.

Together, they quickly followed the elf through the gate and then up the hidden staircase again, changing back into their clothes and high-tailing it down the butler’s stairs into the kitchen. They merged with a loud, laughing group of partygoers, shoving their way through the ballroom until they spotted Kevin. He stood at the base of the terrace stairs, leaning against the bottom newel, with a bottle of butterbeer in his hand, arms crossed, and a smirk on his face. He saw them and waved the girls over.

“What’s going on?” asked Veronica breathlessly, perfectly back to her normal shelf.

“Looks like Chuck had a run in with two ladies of the night, who shamed him into confessing he wasn’t quite the stud he thought he was,” answered Kevin, eyes still on the spectacle in front of them. “Apparently they used _sonorous_ and everyone heard _everything._ ”

The two Hufflepuffs turned and Betty gasped.

Chuck stood, dripping wet and clutching his clothes to his body, surrounded by partygoers – most of them the girls whose reputations he sullied. He had clearly just wandered out from the hot tub terrace to the pool, and caught nearly naked, was being yelled at by the girls.

“You’re such a pig, Clayton!” one shouted.

“My boyfriend broke up with me because of the rumours you spread!”

“Ride your broomstick, solo, jackass!”

Then it was a barrage – more girls shouted, in solidarity, and then a few boys shoved forward and one – a seventh-year Ravenclaw, slugged Clayton across the cheek, sending him sprawling to the floor, his clothes landing everywhere. The Ravenclaw was shouting incomprehensible words through the shouts of the crowd, but Betty could hear, “OATHS – LIST – DIFFICULT – SELFISH – PRICK!”

Out of the corner of her eye, high above, Betty saw Reggie standing at the top ballroom terrace balcony, by the stairs. He was looking over it all, a satisfied look on his face, and seemed not to care at all that other blood oath participants were getting involved.

He felt her eyes on his face, because he turned to look down at her. They stared at each other for a moment, and then – he winked.

Chaos erupted as Chuck’s friends fell into the mix, and then Kevin was leading Veronica and Betty away, back inside. The cuts, bruises, and scrapes – and Hogwarts’ gossip mill – would do the rest.

*

The party broke up a few hours later, although Chuck and his friends had left shortly after the brawl that Reggie did nothing to stop, glowering darkly at any who looked at them. Betty, Veronica and Kevin, remained behind, with some others like Midge and Dilton, who had prepared the music for the entire evening.

Archie had long disappeared with Val – a point Veronica sourly remarked on – and Jughead hadn’t been seen since he disappeared earlier, when Archie began dancing with Val and before Betty and Veronica used the Polyjuice.

Back in her sundress, Betty wandered through the ballroom until she stood on the terrace, overlooking the pool where she watched her fellow Hogwarts classmates fight. There were still splashes of some blood, but a few elves were already there, snapping their fingers and directing thick bristle brushes to clean the marks up.

Reggie stood with a hip against the balustrade, eyes down and watching the Mantle elves as they cleaned. She moved forward until she was standing next to him, but unlike him, looking down, she tilted her head up and stared at the black inky sky above her, dotted with stars.

The air was cold, and when Betty spoke, a hot steam of air went with it. “I helped ruin someone’s life today.”

“He fucking deserved it,” replied Reggie, his voice controlled and tight. His arms were crossed.

“Did he?” she asked, closing her eyes. “The way we did it? Letting everyone know like that?”

“I thought that was what you wanted, Hermione Granger,” said Reggie, turning to look at her, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “You wanted him destroyed socially for what he did to those girls – or, more like, what he _didn’t_ do.”

Betty frowned. “You got something out of it, too.”

“Hells yes,” he said with a short, snappy laugh. “Clayton’s been thinking he’s the big wizard on campus. _I_ completed the list. _I_ made sure to follow the rules. He fucked it up and he’ll pay the consequences.”

“Did he have much left?” she asked, unbidden. She shivered in the air and Reggie sighed, taking his wand out from his back pocket and tapping her shoulder. Warmth instantly spread over her body as his warming charm worked.

He pocketed the wand. “He had a few more tasks to go.” He glanced at her, gauging. “From the bottom of the list.”

Betty frowned. “He won’t find someone to help him with those.”

“Probably not,” said Reggie, a knowing glint in his eyes.

 _Shit, he knows that I know what’s on the list now_ , she thought. She sighed. _In for a knut –_ “He’s going to lose his magic.”

“Maybe,” shrugged Reggie. “Maybe not.”

Betty turned fully to Reggie, and he mimicked her. “C’mon, Reg, don’t be obtuse. Our actions mean that he’ll be unlikely to finish the oath by the time he graduates in a few months. He’ll lose his magic and become a Squib.”

The tall Gryffindor scoffed. “He might lose his magic, and he might not. You said it yourself – he’s got a few months left. He might manage it.”

“I know what’s on that list, Reggie,” admitted Betty. “If you said the bottom is what he’s working on, no girl at Hogwarts is going to help him.”

“There will always be someone,” replied Reggie. “But it won’t be the good witches.”

“Ugh!”

Reggie grinned. “What? Suddenly all Princess Buttercup again? Pink and frills and manners? You looked hot earlier.”

“It was a means to an end,” she replied quietly.

“Uh huh,” replied Reggie, turning around fully so his bum was against the balcony. He cast a knowing look at her. “Bet you a galleon Jughead would get through half that list in a night if he saw you in that.”

“Merlin’s balls, Reggie!” squeaked Betty, bringing her hands to her face, which was suddenly very hot. “What the hell! Why would you say something like that?”

He gave a scoffing laugh. “Come _on_ , Betty – I’ve got eyes. And Snape’s only got eyes for you.”

Betty made a face at the reference; she _really_ didn’t like it.

“Besides,” continued Reggie. “He’s the reason, isn’t he?”

Betty startled. “What?”

“He’s the reason you went through with it, right?” asked Reggie. “Yeah, I get Veronica wanting to have a go at Chuck, but you were the one who led the confession tonight. It was really her revenge, and she should’ve done it. But she didn’t – you did. _You_ forced Clayton into confessing. _You_ mentioned the list. And Veronica only knows about from you, but you’re the one with a personal connection to it – through Jones.”

Betty sucked in a breath through bloodless lips. _Merlin, was that_ – _? Did I really do that? For Jughead?_

Reggie was watching her as emotions flashed across her face. Eventually, he stood straight, catching her attention. Still shocked, she couldn’t speak as he gave her a smug grin.

“ _Mmhmm_. That’s what I thought.”

He left her standing on the terrace until he was too far away and his warming charm wore off.

*

The next day, the Sunday, Betty remained pensive regarding what Reggie had pointed out. She was so sure she was participating in the plan because of Veronica and the other girls who were victimized by Chuck’s rumours, but – was Reggie right? Did she do it because of Jughead? Being involved in the stupid blood oath made as a first year?

She was entirely caught up in her thoughts when she returned to Hogwarts that evening, Veronica and Kevin going to the Great Hall for dinner while she begged off, instead moving up to the Black and Gold office. She needed quiet to decompress from the weekend and more than just her involvement with Chuck – but from her father’s revelation about the Cooper and Blossom families.

The office was dark when she arrived, but when she stepped over the threshold, the room’s chandeliers above burst into life, the flames flickering and bathing the room in a soft glow.

She turned to dropped her duffle bag on the couch – with her lingerie from the other day, as well as her overnight clothes – but was unable to – as the figure on it moved and an aborted scream burst past her mouth.

“Sorry, sorry, Betts, it’s just me!”

Betty pressed a palm against her chest, hoping to calm her racing heart. “Merlin, Jug! What were you doing, sitting in the dark?”

He stood from the couch, looking bashful, but focusing intently on her. “Just thinking.”

Betty rolled her shoulders in response. “Yeah? I was going to do the same.”

“It’s a good couch for it,” he quipped. Betty began to walk towards him and the couch, hyperaware that his eyes tracked her movements.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, sliding past him to collapse on it. Jughead watched with amusement, turning his entire body to follow her.

She then looked up at him. “Where did you get off to last night, by the way? I saw you duck out when Archie began to dance. Did you go home?”

Jughead’s mouth twisted briefly at the word, but he shook his head. “No – I uh – I found the library. It’s quite nice, actually – and I spent a few hours there before wandering the grounds for a bit.”

“Oh?” Betty frowned. There was something off about his tone, about his eyes as he watched her. _It’s almost like he... knows what I did. But he can’t – Kevin and Veronica wouldn’t tell him, and Reggie sure as hell wouldn’t_.

“Yeah.” He paused, looking at her again – but then smiled and fell onto the couch opposite her. “Did you know, that for a family that owns racing horses, they don’t have any tracks?”

“But you found the stables, I’m guessing,” laughed Betty.

Jughead leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “Don’t tell anyone now.”

“Cross my heart,” replied Betty. She then said, tentatively, “I’m sorry I left you behind at the Blossom’s.”

Jughead shook his head. “No worries. I get that you were spooked. I was pretty spooked by grandma Blossom, too.”

She frowned, looking down at her Hogwarts skirt and idly picked at the hem. “Juggie, I feel like I don’t even know who my mom and dad are anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Betty glanced up at him. “My dad told me that the reason why he hates the Blossoms was because my great-grandfather was murdered by Cheryl and Jason’s great-grandfather. He considers the Blossoms as the reason why we were cheated out of part of their elf wine empire.”

“Well, that sucks,” he muttered.

“But that’s not all,” said Betty, biting her lip. “He said that Pol was sick _because_ of Jason. Not because she tried to kill herself – but because of something Jason did to her.”

“Betty,” began Jughead slowly, carefully, sitting up to face her fully. “If your parents lied about Jason and Polly, there’s probably more that they lied about.”

She nodded, closing her eyes. “Wendy implied as much.”

“Your dad said he would do anything to protect Polly,” continued Jughead, looking towards their murder board. Her eyes followed. “So the next logical question is – how far would he go to protect her?”

Betty slowly stood on shaky legs, walking over to the murder board. Jughead followed her.

“Jughead, whoever broke into Auror Keller’s house and stole all his evidence that night knew Kevin’s father was going to be out,” she said, eyes darting over the board. “They had to have been watching the house – had to know that Kev, Veronica, and I were going to the Twilight theatre. My Dad knew what my plans were that night.”

Her eyes met Jughead’s, and he held them, a sympathetic light in the blue irises. She swallowed thickly, and watched as he reached for a discarded parchment and self-inking quill. He wrote on it, _Hal Cooper_ in his block letters, and then handed her the parchment.

Betty took it from him and stuck it to the board, near her mother’s article, adding her father – her family – to the list of suspects.

There was only one thing left on her mind, something that would move them a step closer to solving Jason’s murder.

She turned to Jughead and said, “We need to talk to Polly.”

“Okay,” nodded Jughead. “When? And how?”

Betty bit her lip. “My mom’s back from the Selwyn house. She wanted to do a family dinner, but I left before anything tonight, so... tomorrow? Come with me to mine for dinner?”

“Bribing me with food, Betty Cooper?” asked Jughead, but there was friendly gleam in his eyes. “Are my standards so low?”

She nudged him with her hand and his mouth twitched into a smile. “I know food is the way to your heart, Jughead Jones.”

His smile softened and her heart stopped. “Not just food, Betts.”

“Oh?” she breathed.

He dipped his head in a single nod. “Oh.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for something – she needed him to say it, show something to indicate his interest – but he just hovered there, near her but still too far away. His words and actions were loaded, but she didn’t understand with what or why.

Finally, after what felt like ages, she closed her eyes, opened them, and asked, “So – dinner tomorrow? Are you going to be okay with my parents like that?”

“I think I can manage,” he replied.

“Good,” she replied, and then stepped back. She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to turn in early tonight – it’s been... one interesting weekend.”

“I’ll bet,” he agreed, and again, Betty had the strangest feeling that he knew what she meant and what she did; and stranger still, he approved.

“Goodnight, Jug.”

He watched her as she left, and as she sipped through the door of the Black and Gold, she heard him whisper, “Night, Betts... and thanks.”

*

_Coach Clayton, to save his job, to save the Hogwarts’ reputation, was forced to cut his own beloved son, and his goon squad, from Quidditch._

_The knowledge of the blood oath and list – and his son’s participation on it – was too much for a furious Headmistress McGonagall, who suspended Chuck. It was an action that, although none of us knew it at the time, would have terrible consequences in the weeks to come._

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you drop by and say hello on tumblr: [writing_as_tracey](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com/)


	15. A Tale of Woe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doozy of a chapter - it's long. Over 14 pages in Word, single-spaced. Prepare yourself.

*

XV: A Tale of Woe

*

‘Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,

When men are unprepared and look not for it.

Richard _III_ , Act III, scene 2, line 64

*

_Fear._

_It’s the most basic, the most human, emotion. As kids, we are afraid of everything, and we pray for morning. For the monsters to go away, though they never do._

_Not really – just ask Jason Blossom._

*

School passed slowly that Monday, until the final class was let out. Betty decided to skip cheer practice – Cheryl hadn’t been showing up to them, either, constantly involved in her family’s case of discovering who killed Jason – and met with Jughead in the Black and Gold.

They snuck out the usual way most did – through a secret passage. Betty favoured the Whomping Willow, while Jughead preferred Honeydukes, but he deferred to her as, “it’s not snowing yet, Juggie. When there’s snow on the ground, we won’t use the tree.”

The two crept across the Hogwarts grounds, through the passage into the Shrieking Shack, and from there, snuck down into Hogsmeade. Of course, they were not the only upper years who had done so, utilizing other passages (or more daringly, walking through the front gates), but they were the only two who strayed from the main street towards the residential areas of Hogsmeade.

At the Cooper’s front stoop, Jughead stopped and placed a hand on Betty’s shoulder, his eyes uncharacteristically wide.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“Am I...” he cleared his throat. “Do I look okay? I didn’t dress up. Should I have?”

Betty smiled. “You’re fine. Just as you are.”

Jughead fidgeted, shifting uneasily on his feet, as Betty opened the door and called, loudly, “Mom? Dad? I’m here for dinner. I brought a friend!”

Jughead, who could count the number of times he had been invited to the Coopers on his fingers and have several left over, followed Betty’s heels while he cautiously looked around. The house was like a staged model home – everything had its place, no clutter; even the family photos were professional photographs, taken in a studio somewhere. There were no candid shots on display.

They moved through the living room and then passed the arched threshold between the living room and kitchen, where Alice Cooper, dressed in relaxed ‘Muggle’ clothing, was using her wand to float several dishes through another archway – this time to the right, behind the stairs and main foyer – into the dining room. The Coopers did not eat at a kitchen table, in a breakfast nook.

“Elizabeth,” said Alice, with surprise, her eyes darting over to Jughead. “I wasn’t expecting a guest.”

“I hope that’s okay,” said Betty, a wide smile on her face that Jughead nervously could tell was forced. “You always make so much – we always have leftovers! I’m sure there’s enough for Juggie, too.”

Alice pursed her lips, eyes flicking over at him again, but Hal emerged from the dining room at that moment. He too was wearing Muggle clothes – a sweater and jean combo – and his face lit up when he saw his daughter.

“Betty!” he exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come – or, um, sneak away from Hogwarts to join us.”

His eyes then slid over to Jughead, hovering awkwardly behind her. Surprise crossed his face for a moment, but he then strode forward with a hand outstretched. “Jughead. Nice to see you again. Are you staying for dinner?”

Alice cut a sharp glance at her husband. “Again?”

Jughead cleared his throat, tentatively taking the offered hand and shaking it briefly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, if that’s okay? Betty invited me.”

Hal nodded, releasing Jughead’s hand after a strong pump or two, directing him into the dining room. He turned his head as he walked past his wife to speak directly towards her, “He came by Saturday morning and we all went to Thornhill together for the memorial.”

“I see,” muttered Alice. “Well, then, _Jug-head_ – let me get you a plate.”

Jughead winced at the emphasis placed on his name, but remembered his manners. “Thank you.”

The dishes softly floated and landed in their places on the table in the dining room, just off the kitchen. There was a table runner, and each place had a tablemat and layered plates like one would see at a high-end restaurant or model home. A second set of plates zoomed from the kitchen cabinets and to a free spot on the table.

Hal sat at one head, and Alice moved to the other, leaving Betty and Jughead to pick which side of the table they were to seat themselves at: either side-by-side (as the table sat six), or across from one another.

Betty glanced at him, and then reached for his hand and moved towards her usual seat, wordlessly telling Jughead to sit next to her. He pulled out her chair and waited until she sat to slip into his next to her, earning a look of approval from Hal at the action.

Slowly, they began serving themselves from whatever dish looked good – Alice had made a meat dish with traditional staples of potatoes and vegetables for the side, and once his plate was full (and Betty’s parents began eating), did Jughead fork a bit of mashed potato.

“How were classes today?” asked Hal, glancing up to look at Betty and Jughead.

“Fine,” replied Betty, her eyes moving towards him and then her mother.

Alice frowned. “Betty, don’t slouch, please sit up.”

Betty sighed, nearly inaudibly, but did so, straightening her posture in her seat as Jughead cut a glance at her.

“Do you two share any classes?” asked Hal, knowing there was no point asking about how they met or anything like that – Jughead, Archie, and Betty had been friends since they met at Molly Weasley’s nursery day school for pre-Hogwarts children.

Jughead nodded, swallowing. “We have Literature and Ancient Runes together this year.”

“Do they still keep Hufflepuff and Slytherin separate for the core classes?” asked Alice, joining the conversation and looking at the two teens over the rim of her glass of elf wine.

Betty answered. “Yes; we’re paired with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw is paired with Slytherin. Most of us don’t share classes until our OWL year or electives.”

“That hasn’t changed at all – it was like that when we were there, too,” remarked Alice.

“Would’ve made getting to know you a lot easier and sooner if they mixed the classes up,” joked Hal, looking at his wife. She rolled her eyes in response.

“We’re also working on the Black and Gold together,” added Betty.

“Black and Gold?” frowned Hal.

Jughead, nearly done with his plate and eyeing the rest of the food still in the dishes, said, “It’s Hogwarts’ school newspaper. Betty started it again.”

Hal blinked in surprise. “I didn’t even know Hogwarts had a school newspaper.”

Betty turned to her father. “No one really does. It works for about a year or two, or until whoever is running it, graduates.” She turned a smile on Jughead. “But we’re doing really well!”

Alice frowned. “Hmm. So, _Jug-head_ – I suppose we have you to thank for Betty’s ongoing obsession with this Jason Blossom ghoulishness?”

Hal scowled at her from across the table, but she ignored him, focusing her attention on the dark haired teen that suddenly swallowed heavily and glanced at Betty for help. Alice’s laser-like intensity on him made his palms sweat in a way he didn’t appreciate.

“Actually, Mom, I was the one who asked Jughead to help me write it for the Black and Gold,” said Betty, staring at her mother. “We’re trying to discover the truth – just like you and Dad at the _Prophet_.”

Alice quirked an eyebrow at her daughter. “Relax, Betty. I’m just making conversation.”

Under the table, Betty kicked Jughead’s ankle. He started, glancing at her. She looked back at him, and then sighed. “Um... Do you guys have a bathroom I could use?”

“Sure,” began Betty, “I’ll show you.”

“No, no. I’ll show him,” interjected Alice, rising from her seat.

“He’s not a baby, Ali,” groaned Hal, stopping her movements. He turned to the teen sitting next to him. “It’s just down the hall, across from the stairs, Jughead. Just go through the door here in the dining room; it’ll take you straight into the hall. I’m sure you’ll find it fine – this house is nothing compared to Hogwarts.”

Jughead rose, following the direction Hal gave him. “Thanks, Mr. Cooper.”

He turned and left the dining room through the door, closing it softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, Alice leaned over the table, still standing, and hissed, “Are you crazy? He’s a Jones – what if he starts looking through our things? Or takes something with his grubby hands?”

“Mom!” cried Betty, aghast.

“Jesus, Alice!” said Hal.

Alice scowled at the Muggle swear, and at her family’s vehemence against her words. “You _know_ what the Jones’ are like.”

Betty stood, tossing her napkin on the tabletop angrily. “I think we’re done here. I’ll head back to Hogwarts once Jug’s ready to leave.”

Not taking his eyes off his wife, Hal nodded and said, “That’s a good idea, Betty. Owl if you’re going to come by again sometime later this week.”

With a hard stare at her mother, Betty answered, “I don’t think that will happen anytime soon. I’ve been home a bit much this semester, and I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, including my extracurricular activities.”

Jughead then slipped in through the dining room door, freezing as all eyes in the room zeroed in on him, especially as the tension was palpable. “Umm...?”

Betty strode forward, meeting his eyes. “C’mon, Jug – we’re going back to Hogwarts.”

“Okay?” he replied, glancing at Hal and Alice. He felt Betty reach out and take his hand in hers – fighting a rising blush – and managed to stutter out, “Thank you for having me,” before Betty pulled him through the same door he came from and down the hall.

Once they were outside, walking back to the Shack, she asked, “Did you find anything?”

He nodded. “Yeah, monthly transfers slip from Gringotts for account status. Your parents have been paying a monthly fee to St. Mungo’s – but not the hospital itself.”

“What?”

“It’s like this... smaller clinic. It’s separate from St. Mungo’s, but at the same address by the look of it,” he continued, matching his steps to hers as she slowed. “But I’ve never heard of the ward before – the Lud Ward.”

Betty frowned. “Neither have I.” She glanced at him. “Library?”

He nodded, shooting her a grin. “Library.”

As soon as they returned to Hogwarts, they dashed straight to the library, with only an hour before curfew. Betty went for important Celts, noting the name of the ward, while Jughead went to the old newspapers and Ministry records, hoping to find something on St. Mungo’s.

Thirty minutes later, at a table they commandeered in the quiet and nearly empty library, Jughead found what they were looked for.

“Betts, here!” he whispered, pointing at a passage in the book he was reading. Betty shoved aside her book – _Great Celtic Heroes of Britain_ – and leaned over Jughead to read.

“ _The Lud Ward at St. Mungo’s, located on the sixth floor,_ ” she recited. She then sat back in her seat next to him. “I thought St. Mungo’s only had five floors. And what is the ward for?”

Jughead read further, frowning. “No. It’s a ‘home for troubled youths, where disenfranchised teens will learn such virtues as discipline and respect, enjoying lives of quiet reflection and servitude.’”

They shared equally horrified looks across the book.

“Merlin,” breathed Betty. “My parents sent Pol _there_?”

Jughead reached out and clasped his hands over hers. She glanced down, realizing she was trembling. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“Thanks, Jug,” said Betty, feeling tears well in her eyes.

“The library is closing,” announced Madam Pince, her voice echoing throughout the stacks and shelves and reaching all corners. “Curfew is in twenty minutes. Please return to your Houses.”

Jughead gently, and reluctantly, disentangled his hands from Betty’s. She closed their books and stacked them, moving them to a returns cart nearby.

“We’ll talk more about this later, okay?” she whispered, as they – and a few straggling Ravenclaws – shuffled out of the library, and they began their trek to the dungeons. It was beneficial that both Hufflepuff and Slytherin were close to one another.

Jughead nodded. “I’m going to go to the kitchens – I was eyeing a second helping when you kicked me early.”

“Don’t be a baby!” laughed Betty “It wasn’t that hard.”

Jughead gave her a mock look of hurt. “I have very skinny ankles, Betts. A pinch would knock me over, out of commission.”

She giggled. “Liar.”

Jughead gasped. “Betty! Are you calling _me_ – Jughead Jones the third – and a _Slytherin_ – a liar?”

She rolled her eyes, stopping by the portrait of the pear, the entrance to the kitchens. “If it fits.”

He playfully reached out and tweaked her ponytail. “What am I going to do with you?”

She shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“At lunch,” he confirmed.

Betty returned to her dorm, finding Veronica already asleep. She changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth and flossed, and then crawled into bed. Despite swirling thoughts of Polly in the Lud Ward at St. Mungo’s, she fell asleep quickly.

*

Unfortunately, Jughead and Betty didn’t share any classes together on Tuesday, leaving the first time that they could discuss Polly to be lunch, at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. It was third period, and although Veronica, Archie, and Kevin would normally have been in Divination, they were all missing from that class, as Kevin was the music organizer for the Halloween Ball. He spent the morning hosting auditions, including Archie, who decided to try out for a spot, or so Veronica had said that morning before she skipped Herbology to watch the auditions.

Instead of thinking about Archie potentially choking again in front of a crowd, she sat next to Jughead, staring unseeingly down at her schoolwork – spread across the table and mixed in with his – and murmured, “Poor Polly. It’s been months. There’s got to be a reason my mom and dad don’t want me to see her.”

Beside her, Jughead made a sound.

“She’s in _St. Mungo’s_! That’s crazy,” she continued, looking up at him. “But I don’t care anymore. I need to see her.”

Abruptly, she was jolted from looking at her friend by the table moving; they both looked up and saw Archie slide onto the bench, facing the Gryffindor table instead of sitting at it. He had an earnest expression on his face when he asked, “What are you guys talking about? Anything I can help with?”

Jughead rolled his eyes. Wryly, he said, “What we’re attempting is a stealth operation, Archie. If we go in there with the entire Scooby Gang, forget it, we’re compromised.”

“Go where?” he asked, his eyes flicking back and forth between his two oldest friends.

Betty gave a light shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Besides, don’t you have to practice for the Halloween ball anyways?”

“Uh, no, I don’t,” replied Archie, a startled look on his face.

However, Veronica and Kevin appeared at the table at that moment, Kevin sitting next to Betty while Veronica placed herself next to Archie. She then said, with a smile, “Except that yes, you do. Thanks to a certain Veronica- _ex-machina_.”

“Excuse me,” muttered Kevin, moodily. He began to close up Betty’s books, and she sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to get any work done; together, she and Jughead separated their textbooks and notes and parchment, and cleared the tabletop just as lunch from the kitchens below began to appear.

“What do you mean?” asked Archie, looking from Veronica to Kevin.

Veronica grinned, casting her eyes down the table and looking at what was on offer. “Oh, nothing. Just that I had a few words with our director/host—” here, Kevin snorted loudly “—and reminded him that he’s heard you sing on numerous occasions.”

Kevin aggressively began peeling a banana. “Even though it compromises my artistic integrity.”

Veronica shot him a look. “Cutting to the chase, you have a slot if you want it.”

Archie’s mouth dropped open. “Veronica, thank you, but you saw what happened.”

“We all did,” said Kevin, his mood still sour. Betty shot him a sympathetic glance, but did not speak. Instead, she turned back to the lunch offerings, and nudged Jughead when she saw he hadn’t begun taking any food. With gave her a long look, but sighed and began spooning food onto his plate.

“Playing my songs in front of you guys is one thing, but getting back up on that stage by myself,” Archie stopped speaking and shook his head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

Veronica frowned and leaned towards him. “If it’s a partner you’re looking for, Veronica Lodge is more than willing and able.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Veronica, I didn’t know you could sing!”

 _And I didn’t know that you could get past Archie dating Val so quickly that you’re ready to help him out_.

Veronica grinned at her friend across the table. “Like a Celestina Warbeck herself.” She then turned back to Archie, coyly peering at him from under her lashes. “What do you say, Archiekins? Be the Jay to my Bey?”

Archie licked his lips nervously and looked from Kevin (who remained bored), to Betty and Jughead (Betty gave him an encouraging nod, but Jughead just rolled his eyes and offered a tiny smirk), to finally Veronica, who was pleading with him, with her large doe-like eyes.

He sighed. “Fine, I’m in. Yes. Thank you, Ronnie.”

Her entire face lit up as she smiled at him. “It’ll be perfect, Archiekins! Just you wait.”

As the two then began throwing back suggestions for covers, with Kevin begrudgingly adding his thoughts, Betty leaned to Jughead, and whispered, “Do you think we should check out St. Mungo’s?”

“Most definitely,” he replied, just as quietly. “But we’ve already snuck out a few too many times recently. Friday? When everyone else goes to the Three Broomsticks?”

Betty nodded. “We’ll head to London instead. Knight Bus, maybe?”

“Easiest way to get there,” replied Jughead.

“Hey – Jug – what do you think? A Weird Sisters cover or something Muggle?” interrupted Archie, drawing both Betty and Jughead into the conversation. “Ronnie’s thinking Muggle, but I think I could kill a cover of ‘Do the Hippogriff’!”

Jughead grinned. “Arch – you couldn’t dance around like a crazy elf the same way Myron Wagtail does even if someone hit you with a _tarantellagre_.”

*

The wait for Friday made Betty jittery. She was so close to finding Polly, to discovering what made her parents send her sister away, and the knowledge that all it took was the Knight Bus to get to her was eating at her. It was so bad that she had reopened the cuts on her palms several times and had taken to soaking her hands in Essence of Dittany every night secretly in the bathroom.

Veronica, of course, noticed it, and cornered her the Friday after classes, before dinner. She was going to meet Archie in the Upper Common Room, to go over their song for the Halloween Ball.

“So, you wanna tell me about it, B?” was her opening gambit. “Is it Jughead?”

Betty shook her head, scraping her hair back and tightly slinging it all into a ponytail. “No, not at all.”

Veronica grinned. “Because, if I must say, things seem to be going pretty well between you two?”

Betty shrugged. “Nothing’s happened.”

“Nothing _yet_ ,” argued Veronica, a knowing glint in her eyes. “It’s not like he sits beside you at every meal. Or that you do your homework together every evening, or disappear to work in the Black and Gold.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “We’re friends, V.”

Veronica snickered. “Not for much longer by my count.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, hmm?” asked Betty, pointedly looking at her friend. “Somewhere with Archie?”

Veronica cast a tempus and then swore. “Merlin’s saggy balls, I’m going to be late.” She stood and grabbed a designer purse, shoving some loose parchment with song lyrics and chords on them inside. “Don’t stay up for me, okay? I plan on a _long_ study session tonight.”

Betty rolled her lips together and squashed a smile. She didn’t mind Val – the Gryffindor girl had only ever been nice to her – but there was a part of Betty that was rooting for Veronica and Archie to get together, too.

“Have fun,” she said, waving goodbye as Veronica disappeared out the door, leaving Betty alone. She finished getting ready – applying a thin layer of Chapstick to her lips, and then shoving some government ID and her wand in a purse – and then left as well, heading for the Entrance Hall where she would meet Jughead.

He was already there, waiting for her, and watching several other upper year students as they wandered from the castle to the grounds and then the village; weekends meant freedom for the sixth and seventh years, and many eagerly spent their time in Hogsmeade, utilizing the open main gate.

“Ready to go?” she asked, coming up behind him. He spun quickly and smiled at the sight of her.

“If you are,” he replied, and together they made the quick walk across the grounds and out the school property, moving towards the train station to call for the Knight Bus.

Jughead flicked out his wrist, and Betty was surprised to see a worn and cracked leather holster under the sleeve of his denim jacket. His wand slid from the holster into his waiting palm. It was the first time she had really paid attention to his wand – hers was an extension of herself, a rigid willow with dragon heartstring inside. Jughead’s wand was a darkly stained pine, much longer than her 9 ¼ wand, and when he flicked it up to call the Bus, she noted his wand was bendy and supple.

There was a _bang!_ and a plume of purple smoke, and then the double-decker purple bus appeared before them, coming to a screeching halt.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard,” the conductor rattled off in a bored tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Jughead, stowing his wand away and shoving forward as well as the correct change necessary for their journey. “St. Mungo’s.”

“Oi, you two ill or sumthing?” the conductor asked, taking a very obvious and large step back onto the steps of the bus.

“Just visiting,” said Betty sweetly, and she watched as he melted at her tone.

“Well, that’s awright then,” he replied, nodding once as Jughead scowled and stepped past him, finding a bed near a pole to hang on to. Betty gingerly settled next to him, wrapping her hands tightly around the metal pole, just under Jughead’s hands.

“Ready?” he muttered. “Merlin, I hate this thing.”

“Me too,” she whispered back – and then she clamped her mouth shut as the bus took off with another _bang!_ and they were thrown back. Jughead ended up letting go of the pole at one point with one hand, wrapping his arm securely around her back and tucking her into his side, her feet tangling together with his, while Jughead’s right foot ended up hooked around the pole for extra strength.

“St. Mungo’s, next stop!” the conductor called loudly, and as soon as they appeared on the dark street in London, Jughead and Betty quickly untangled and stood on wobbly legs. “Have a nice evening!”

“Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick,” muttered Betty, leaning forward and resting bodily against the side of the rundown department store that doubled as the entrance for St. Mungo’s.

Jughead sidled up next to her and rested a warm hand on her back, sliding up to cup the nape of her neck. “You okay?”

She breathed deeply through her nose and nodded. When she looked up, he stepped back and together they stared at St. Mungo’s. There was a crooked department store sign proclaiming _Purge & Dowse, Ltd_ against the red brick of the building, and a large dirt-crusted window with a lopsided, faceless and rather ugly female mannequin propped up in the corner.

“Hey,” began Jughead, who also had never been to the hospital. “Don’t judge a hospital by its facade, right?”

She pulled on her ponytail, tightening it. Betty moved to the mannequin and said, clearly, “Hi. My name is Elizabeth Cooper. I’m here to see my sister, Polly, who is in the Lud Ward.”

There was a few seconds of silence, in which Betty and Jughead worriedly shared a look. Then, the faceless mannequin nodded, and they both breathed sighs of relief, stepping through the dirty window and into a startling contrast of white tiles and walls and a busy reception area.

At a desk labelled “Inquiries,” a witch sat, her face red as she argued with a tall, broad-shouldered blond man in Hit Wizard robes.

“— _Like I said, sir_ ,” the witch said, “Without a proper warrant or a family relation, you cannot visit that floor.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” the man cried, his voice devoid of any regional accents. “I work for the ICW. _The I-C-W!_ The International Confederation of Wizards! This should be warrant enough to get me in! I’m working a case here!”

Betty strode forward with Jughead, both of them awkwardly hovering behind the Hit Wizard.

The witch behind the counter crossed her arms and said, sternly, “ _No_.”

“UGH!” the wizard turned, bumping into Betty. She saw a flash of green eyes and a square jaw as he muttered, “Sorry,” and then brushed by her, his dark black robes streaming behind him.

The witch at the counter cleared her throat, eyeing Betty and her Hogwarts uniform with derision. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for the Lud Ward,” said Betty. “What floor is that?”

The witch narrowed her eyes and breathed heavily through gritted teeth, “May I see some identification?”

Betty sighed and pulled out her wand from her purse, as well as the Muggle ID her father made her have in case she ever got lost in Muggle London. The witch eyed the plastic ID warily, as if it would bite her, and then weighed Betty’s wand on a scale, which righted itself and spat out smoke. The smoke turned pink – which Betty hoped was good – and then the witch nodded, pushing forward a clipboard.

“Sign in here, please,” she said, using a green-tipped nail to point at a specific part of the form. “The Lud Ward is on the sixth floor, and you can take the elevator all the way up.” She eyed Jughead. “He’ll have to wait on the fifth floor, in the Visitor’s Tearoom.”

Betty bit her lip and looked at Jughead. He shook his head and whispered, “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. You go see Polly.”

They rode the elevator together, but at the fifth floor, he got off and stood just outside the doors, facing her. As the doors shut, he raised a hand in farewell, and then winked.

Betty grinned, and a few seconds later, was on the sixth floor – something she never knew existed. An attendant was waiting for her as the doors opened. The woman was old, and stern, and wasn’t wearing the lime green of St. Mungo’s Healers and Mediwizards – but rather a dull grey.

“Ms. Cooper?” she asked. When Betty nodded, she began walking a brisk clip down the longer hallway in front of the elevator, leaving behind the other two options, as the ward was a T-shape. “Polly’s room is right this way, though right now it’s silent reflection time.”

The attendant stopped outside a room – number 154 – and Betty used the small window to peer inside. Her heart broke at the image. There was a tiny, single bed and bedside table. A small chair was tucked next to a dresser. Otherwise, it was bare.

The attendant continued walking and Betty mutely followed, wringing her hands together in an attempt to stop from clenching instead. _Merlin, Pol... what is going on? What are you doing here?_

The attendant stopped by a long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside was a rooftop terrace, filled to the brim with different kinds of trees and benches, as well as one water feature that Betty could see. The attendant tapped her wand on the only doors out of the entire wall, a white-framed pair of French doors. They slid open at her touch. “Polly usually spends that time in the Garden of Deliverance – which you can find by following this path.”

Betty nodded and walked down the flagstone path, never straying even if it snaked and curved its way through several small pocket gardens and reflection pools until it reached a square garden, bordered by low green hedges. In the middle was a koi pond with several fish and lily pads. On a bench, facing the pond, opposite to the entrance where Betty stood, was a familiar figure.

“Polly?” the name escaped her mouth.

The figure looked up, and it was like a reflection of Alice Cooper, only younger and friendlier. The teen on the bench stood and quickly walked around the pond to stand before her sister. Betty immediately catalogued the differences a few months made: Polly’s hair was longer, straight and held back by a headband. Her face was also fuller.

“Betty!” Polly exclaimed. “Oh, Merlin. You found us.”

 _Us?_ Thought Betty, and then Polly hugged her and she knew. She felt the tiny bump between them, surprise making her draw back quickly.

“You’re—Polly, Merlin!” she gasped, looking down at the tiny belly, her hands still grasping her sister’s arms. Polly laughed. “You’re? With Jason?”

Polly bit her lip and ducked her head a bit to look at her sister. “Please be happy for me, Betty.”

At the worried tinge in Polly’s voice, Betty shook her head. “I am, Polly. I’m just I am so sorry I didn’t come sooner. I should’ve, but Mom and Dad – they stopped me...”

“What did they tell you?” asked Polly, resignedly. “That I was addicted to potions? Alcohol?”

Betty frowned, eyes on her sister’s pale face. “They said you were sick. That you tried to hurt yourself.”

Polly rolled her eyes – the same shade of green as hers, as their mother’s. “And they told me you didn’t want to come and see me, which I knew was a lie.”

Together, they linked arms and went back to the bench Polly was sitting on when Betty arrived. “So, they locked you up because you’re pregnant?”

They sat and Polly shook her head. “No – it’s because they couldn’t control me, Betty. Mom and Dad _hated_ that Jason and I were dating. They were thrilled when Jason dumped me – because Jason’s parents forced him to break up with me.” She gave a self-depreciative laugh. “ _Of course_ they didn’t approve of a Blossom boy dating a Cooper girl. But when I told him about the baby, our baby...” her eyes lit up. “Oh, he was so happy, Betty. We were gonna run away; start our family in a beautiful place.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “What? Pol – how?”

Polly grinned and tapped her nose. “You know those extra lessons Muggle Studies Professor Grundy gives? Jason asked her for help, and she helped us get all the necessary paperwork we would need to live our lives away from the magical world. It was all planned – so, on July 4th, I woke up, I packed a bag, and I went downstairs to start my new life, just like Jason and I had planned.”

Her eyes took on a dreamy quality and she looked into the koi pond, lost in her memories. “We were gonna meet on the other side of the Black Lake, down by the train station and away from Hogsmeade. But Mom and Dad found out about everything. When I went downstairs, there was a woman I didn’t know sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea - with two men behind her.”

Betty gasped. “Merlin!”

“They threw me in the back of a van. I was screaming. I don’t think I stopped screaming until I got here, in this place,” Polly trailed off and then turned a hard stare on Betty. “Have you talked to him? Does he know that I’m here?”

Betty frowned. “Who, Polly?”

Polly rolled her eyes as if Betty was acting dumb. “Jason. If I give him a message, will you make sure it gets to him?”

Betty’s heart plummeted. “Polly, Jason...”

“What does he think happened? He knows that I’m here because of Mom and Dad, right?” continued Polly, her voice rising in agitation. She knew something was wrong.

“Polly, you don’t understand—”

“I can fix this, Betty.” The fire in her sister’s eyes made Betty snap her mouth shut, and Polly continue speaking, her voice dropping low. “I know I can. You just have to help me get out of here, and then I’ll go to meet him. I’ll go to where he stashed his Nimbus 3000 on the lost path off of the Hogsmeade Trail. ‘Once you pass the old Blossom Mill Elf Wine sign, then you’ll know you’re almost there.’ See? I remember. I’m packed. We’re packed. We’ll go to the farm just like we planned.”

It was too much. Betty abruptly stood, snapping, “Polly, stop.”

“What’s the matter, Betty?” her sister asked, looking up at her with a dazed expression. “What? What is it?”

Betty took a deep breath. “Jason—”

“What? Did something happen to him? Something bad?” at Betty’s nod, Polly crumbled and leaned over her tiny belly, hugging her arms tightly to herself. “Oh, Merlin. Oh, my God! I _knew_ it. He’s—” She began to hiccup. “He’s - He’s—”

Betty bit her lip and reached for her sister. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Polly.”

“Come with me, young lady,” the stern voice of the attendant that showed her to her sister said, startling her and making her turn in surprise. “ _Now_.”

She grabbed Betty’s arm and yanked her from her sister, while the two burly guards that flanked the older woman in grey robes moved towards the crying Polly. Soon, Betty lost sight of her sister and was shoved in a small office by herself.

Minutes later, the door opened and the last person she ever expected to see walked in. Betty’s mouth dropped open. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

Alice Cooper pursed her lips and spoke quietly, with a hard edge to her voice, “I pay St. Mungo’s good galleons. You think they don’t notify me if Polly gets a visitor?”

She held the door open and a sharp gesture encouraged Betty to leave the room morosely. They walked down the hall back towards the elevator, coming from one of the smaller branch hallways. Betty saw Jughead standing next to one of the burly guards the floor employed, arms crossed.

As they reached the elevator, a voice from the longer hallway – where the rooms were located – broke the silence of the Lud Ward.

“Mom?”

Alice stiffened and turned. “Polly.”

Polly’s face crumpled shortly before hardening. She then cried out, tears in her eyes, “Jason’s dead? And you didn’t tell me? And you kept me in here?”

Betty saw her mother’s face fall and her eyes redden with unshed tears at her daughter’s anguish. “Baby, it’s for your own good...”

But Polly wasn’t having it. She scrunched her face up and shook her head, her long hair cascading back and forth down her back. “Ugh! You always say that. And it’s not true!”

The two burly guards that escorted her to her room moved forward and one restrained her while the other hand his wand out.

“No! Betty!” cried Polly.

Betty wasn’t sure what overcame her at that moment, but she darted forward, yanking from her mother’s outstretched grasp. She vaguely heard Jughead grunt as her friend was pushed hard against the wall, struggling against moving to support her.

Betty broke past the guard with his wand out, shoving him and wrapping her arms around her sister. “I’m going to get you out of here, I swear to Merlin. I love you, Polly,” she whispered feverishly, just as magic washed over her and threw her away from her sister. She fell hard to the floor and then Jughead was there, helping her up. She clutched at his jacket and he wrapped both his arms around her securely while her mother stood by, stricken at the violence around her daughters. Eventually, Polly’s cries faded and the silence galvanized Alice, because she took a shuddering breath and faced her younger daughter.

In a wavering voice, Alice said, “We’re going home, Betty,” as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Give me your hand to Apparate.”

Betty stared hard at her mother, until she sniffed and relented, “Fine. Both of you.”

Jughead, with a wary look in his eyes, inched forward with Betty until Alice could place one hand on either shoulder. Then, they Disapparated, and reappeared just outside the Cooper residence in Hogsmeade. Betty and Jughead stumbled, being the passengers for the Apparation. Alice cast a frosty gaze at the dark hair teen, and said, “Go back to Hogwarts, Jughead. Betty and I need to have a talk.”

Jughead mulishly squared his jaw, and Betty was vaguely aroused at the sight of his tense jaw muscle. However, she reached forward and touched his cheek gently, causing him to move his eyes from her mother to her. His jaw muscles loosened.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she whispered, and he nodded, once, slowly.

He kept glancing back as he walked away, into Hogsmeade, until he was at the end of their street and disappeared around the corner. The moment he did so, Alice pointed at the house, and wordlessly, Betty stomped inside, startling her father on the living room couch, eyes wide at Betty’s uncharacteristic pout and Alice’s furious form behind her.

“Your daughter had an adventure today,” said the blonde Slytherin through clenched teeth. “She ended up at St. Mungo’s.”

“What?” asked Hal, jumping to his feet and throwing the paperback down onto the coffee table. “Are you alright? Why were you at St. Mungo’s and not at the hospital wing under Pomfrey?”

Alice gave a dark laugh. “Oh, she wasn’t _sick_ , Hal. Don’t be naive. She and _Jug-head_ must have snooped after dinner on Monday and found out where Polly was. Our daughters had a chat.”

Hal’s face drained of colour, changing from worried to stony.

Betty stared at her parents, feeling tears trickle hotly down her cheeks. “Polly needed to hear the truth. And I did, too.”

Hal nodded slowly, calculated. “So? Did you find what you were looking for?”

“To be honest, Dad, no, I didn’t,” burst out Betty, wiping at her tears with the palms of her hands. “You hate the Blossoms. You hated Jason, and now Polly is pregnant with his baby. That gives you a motive.”

Hal blinked. “A motive?” he echoed. “A motive for what?”

“The closing night of the Twilight theatre, did you break into Auror Keller’s house and steal his case files?” asked Betty, daringly. She met her father’s eyes straight on.

“What?” he blustered.

Betty narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t at the theatre. Where were you?”

 Shock spread across her father’s face – as well as hurt. “Betty, what do you think I did?”

Betty took a deep breath and asked, plainly, “Did you kill Jason Blossom?”

There was silence in the living room until a strange wheeze broke it. Startled, both Betty and Hal turned to Alice, who had slumped into the opposite couch, doubled over. The wheezing was coming from her, a stilted hysterical laugh. “ _Him_? You think that _he_ killed Jason? The _Hufflepuff_? You think that he has the stomach for that?”

Hal was offended. “Alice—”

She continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I _wish_ he’d killed Jason. I wish _I_ had after what Jason did to Polly. I swear, Elizabeth, you’re sounding crazy just like your sister.”

Betty swallowed heavily. “Stop staying that, Mom. She’s not crazy—”

“She is, Betty,” argued Alice, just as Hal spoke over her, “Did you actually believe the story she told you? About running off to Never-Never Land and raising a family? That’s a fantasy, Betty.”

Betty jutted her jaw out, her eyes stinging. “I don’t believe you.”

Alice just gave her a look, one that Betty was familiar with; it was the _I’m so disappointed in you,_ look. “You don’t have to believe us,” said Alice quietly, standing. “We’re your parents. You will listen to us and trust us that we know best for you. That’s out job.”

Betty felt her lips tremble, and to avoid losing her composure in front of them, she held back a sob and raced out of the living room, and then straight out the front door. She ran blindly, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. Eventually, she stopped, shivering in the cold and blinking against the darkness of the overcast evening. She was standing at the top of the Astronomy tower, slowly turning in a circle and framed by a few flickering torches against the wall, as she tried to remember how she got there.

“Betty?”

She turned and saw Jughead, staring at her in concern as he slowly took the last few steps before standing on the flat rooftop.

Unbidden, Betty felt the tears well up in her eyes again, and she blurted out, “They’re crazy. My parents are crazy.”

Jughead frowned, stepping forward quickly to stand in front of her. “They’re parents, Betts. They’re all crazy.”

Betty shook her head. “No, but what if,” she trailed off and licked her lips. “What if Polly is, too? The way she was talking to me, the way she looked at me – and - and - now, all I can think is, ‘Maybe I’m crazy like they are.’”

Jughead’s frown deepened, and he made an aborted move, but stepped closer to her. “Hey. We’re all crazy. We’re not our parents, Betty. We’re not our families. Also—”

His eyes flicked down to her mouth.

“What?” she asked, looking at him. “What?”

He seemed to wrestle with something, but then—he surged forward, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks. They were large and cradled her face so gently, and then his mouth was on hers.

 _Yes,_ a part of her sighed. _Finally._

His lips were warm, but slightly chapped, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. It wasn’t as quick or peckish as their first kiss – a month ago now, outside the Slytherin dorm. This kiss was warm and hesitant and more of a promise than anything.

He drew back slightly, his hands remaining on her face, and for a moment, they hovered, breathing in each other’s air.

Then – Betty’s eyes widened. “The broom!”

Jughead heaved a tiny huff of hot air against her face and drew back to look at her. There was a tiny smile on his face as he teased, “Wow. That’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

Betty shook her head slightly. “No! Polly talked about a broom Jason had stashed for them down the Hogsmeade trail near some sign – you know, the one that goes all the way around the Black Lake? If we can find it, we can confirm Polly’s story.”

He stepped back, dropping his hands from her cheeks. She looked up at him earnestly. “One way or another... I need to know, Juggie.”

He sighed, running a hand across his mouth in contemplation, but his eyes were bright. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Now?” she asked, glancing up at the dark clouds that blocked the moon. An ominous rumble broke across the sky.

He, too, looked up, and then back at her. “You need to know, right? The sooner we do this, the sooner Polly gets out of that place.”

She bit her lip but nodded in agreement. He held out his hand, inviting her to take it. She glanced shyly at him, but did so, twining her fingers with his. They stealthily moved through the dark castle, avoiding the portraits and ghosts until they were on the grounds and moving towards the Forbidden Forest. With their free hands, they both held their wands aloft and whispered, “ _lumos_ ,” casting a tiny circle of light around them. Thunder rumbled again, and lightning streak across the sky. With a shock, cold rain began to pour down on them, and soon their clothes – their Hogwarts uniforms with their coats overtop – hung heavily on them.

“Here,” shouted Jughead over the roar of the rain and thunder. A flash of lightning above them illuminated his face briefly. “The path is here!”

Betty nodded and they stood side-by-side as they stumbled across the muddied path; Betty accidentally yanked on Jughead’s arm at one point, the one holding her hand, as she lost her step.

“Careful,” he said near her ear, and when she looked up, she saw something.

“Juggie – there!” she hoisted her wand higher, and there, in faded green and silver writing, was a large billboard sign covered in moss and ivy. There was an image of a green house elf in a nice toga and the cursive script of _Blossom Mill Elf Wine._ “We must be close!”

Jughead reached with the back of his hand to wipe the rain clear off his face and they stumbled forward, under a thick branch. They took a few more steps.

“What’s that?” asked Betty, and Jughead swung his wand around to see where she was looking; a scarlet handle peeked out from under a bush. They stumbled closer and Betty held back the branches, revealing a red broomstick. In gold writing along its side was _NImbus 3000 - Jason Blossom_. However, the broomstick was not the only thing hidden under the bush: there were several crates with loosen tops.

“What are those?” murmured Betty.

Jughead reached forward and nudged one of the lids off the crate, his wand’s light reflecting off several bottles with different coloured liquid in them. In another crate, Jughead’s wand caught on the silver and green of a Quidditch jersey. “Potions, Betty.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Wait! Jughead, put it down! This is evidence. This is _all_ evidence.”

Jughead’s mouth flattened, and his voice was incredulous as he spoke. “ _Shit_. This whole area is a crime scene.”

Betty took a deep breath. “Okay. We need to get Auror Keller and then we need to get Polly.”

“How?” asked Jughead, staring at her as they stood up.

“Can you do a Patronus?” she asked. “A lot of the Order of the Phoenix members apparently could conjure one and send messages to each other with it.”

He stared at her. “Do I _look_ like I can conjure a Patronus?”

She bit her lip. “I’ll try then.”

“Have you conjured one before?” he asked, skeptically.

 “Wisps, anyway. I once thought I saw a form – but I need to try.” She closed her eyes, and summoned up the moment on the astronomy tower, when he had kissed her. The feeling she had, of finally having her feeling reciprocated, or finding Polly earlier, of knowing she’d be an aunt soon – the emotions began to bubble up in her and a smile stretched across her face. She kept her eyes closed and said, firmly, _“Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A burst of silver light erupted from her wand, and when she opened her eyes, she and Jughead were staring at a long, sturdy looking feline with dark tufts that extended past very perky ears. Her cat Patronus opened its mouth wide, exposing long, sharp canines, and then sat back on its haunches, waiting for her order.

Betty sputtered, “Find – Find Head Auror Keller. Tell him Jughead and I found something important related to Jason Blossom. We’ll meet him at the start of the path in Hogsmeade.”

The cat flicked its tail, and then turned and disappeared through the forest. The two stared at each other a moment longer.

“Your Patronus is –” Jughead cleared his throat.

“I know, right?” she agreed, and she beamed at him, despite being soaked to the bone. “We should go. Let’s meet Auror Keller.”

They dashed through the forest, wands still lighting the way and doing their best to not stumble on the muddy path, ducking under low-hanging branches. Eventually, they reached the mouth of the path near Hogsmeade, greeted by Head Auror Keller in his blood red robes and several other Aurors stationed at Hogsmeade.

“I got your Patronus. What is it?” he asked gruffly, looking back and forth at the two wet teenagers and friends of his son.

Jughead started forward. “It’s Jason’s Quidditch jersey – we found it with his broom.”

“Where’d you see that?” asked Auror Keller, incredulous. “And how on earth did you learn about it?”

Betty nodded and continued, “It’s all in a bush with a bunch of his other stuff. Jason was running away with Polly.”

Auror Keller straightened up and nodded grimly. “Where’s his broom and jersey?”

Jughead and Betty turned, Betty motioning with her wand, “Back this way. It’s just past the Blossom Elf Wine billboard from their old mill in the forest.”

The Auror nodded along and with a sharp whistle, his Aurors strode forward; one on foot, and the other two Disapparated. “You two, with me.”

Without warning, he reached forward and Apparated them further along the path in short bursts, never letting them catch their breath until several trips later when they appeared by the old Blossom sign, heat spreading across their face.

Betty cried out, and Auror Keller yanked her and Jughead back. His other two Aurors were shouting while one was frantically setting up wards. Around them, the forest was on fire, but the fire was green, not yellow. Someone had cast Fiendfyre.

Auror Keller swore under his breath and shoved Betty and Jughead at one of the other Aurors. “Get them out of here!”

The unnamed Auror reached forward.

“Please!” interrupted Betty, startling the man enough, he froze. “My sister – she told me about this. What if whoever did this went after her next? She’s in St. Mungo’s.”

The Auror pursed his lips but nodded. “We’ll go there now.”

He reached forward and Apparated them away quickly, reappearing with a ridiculously loud _pop_ that broke through the night, similar to the crack of thunder. In the middle of St. Mungo’s reception, it was even that more startling, and the reception witch – the same one from earlier that day – shrieked.

The Auror turned to Betty. “What floor?”

“Sixth – the Lud Ward!” she gasped, and the three of them were racing down the hallway, towards the elevator and Jughead was hurriedly pushing on the 6 on the panel. The Auror was fingering his wand nervously, and as the doors opened, he burst through first, his wand doing a quick point down each hallway.

“What the—!” the stern attendant that bothered Betty earlier moved around her desk in front of the elevator. “You can’t just—!”

The Auror scowled at her, and turned to Betty, “Where is she?”

Betty pointed down the hall. “This way!”

The three took off, ignoring the shouts of the attendant behind them. Betty skid to a halt in front of her sister’s room – the 154 gleaming in the evening hallway light – and pushed open the door.

“Polly?”

A gust of wind from the storm outside battered against her and Betty felt her heart stop. The window overlooking the garden terrace below, and the rest of Muggle London, was broken.

Betty darted forward, Jughead behind her, as they both peered through the bloodied, broken glass and down the numerous terraces and balconies that dotted the wall, leading to the alleyway between the Purge & Dowse Ltd. department store and the nearby Muggle building.

Vaguely, she could hear the Auror behind her shouting something at the attendant, and she could feel Jughead’s reassuring presence beside her as well as his comforting hand take hers – but another part of her was filled with dread.

_Oh, Polly..._

*

_Here’s the thing about fear: it’s always there. Fear of the unknown, fear of facing it alone; fear that those closest to you are the monsters. Fear that as soon as you slay one, there is another monster waiting to take its place. Fear that there is one more boogeyman waiting at the end of the dark hall._

_She was out there: alone, bereft, unmoored – where was she going to go? What would Polly do next_?

*

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - the entire story is plotted out, everything has meaning, and we're on our way to the end now, but I still anticipate 10 to 15 more chapters to go.
> 
> Remember to drop by and say hello on [Tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Betty's Patronus, a caracel: 


	16. Bonds Between Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 13 days, 15+ books, 800+ pages, and my comps list is nearly done! At least all the library books will be returned without an overdue fee, anyway.

*

XVI: Bonds Between Sisters

*

 **Scott** : --What if it isn’t? What if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else? It all started that night, the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You and me, we were-- we were-- we were nothing. We weren’t popular. We weren’t good at lacrosse. We weren’t important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all.

 **Stiles** : Scott, just listen to me, okay? You’re not no one. Okay? Scott, you’re my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you’re my brother. Alright, so... So, if you’re gonna do this, then... I think you’re just gonna have to take me with you, then. Alright?

— “Motel California,” Teen Wolf, season 3 episode 6

*

_The Coopers: the Stepfords of Hogsmeade. Hal and Alice Cooper were Hogwarts sweethearts and a love story told right – both from two very different backgrounds; Hal being a Muggleborn and Alice a Pureblood – who got married and had two beautiful daughters, Polly and Betty._

_Then, Jason Blossom happened._

*

As what was becoming the norm, Betty found herself seated on her living room couch. The difference to her previous couch-encounters was that her parents standing vigilant at strategic points of the room, Head Auror Keller was sitting across from her, with his quick-notes quill out, and Jughead Jones was pressed thigh-to-hip next to her.

“—and you have no idea where Polly could have gone?” he asked, glancing at both her and Jughead as they shook their heads. “She didn’t mention anywhere? Anything?”

“No,” replied Betty, casting a very dark glare at her parents. “I didn’t have that much time with her.”

“I wasn’t there when Betty spoke to her sister,” added Jughead, his left leg – the one not pressed into her – bouncing nervously. He had a hand up in front of his mouth, and he was rubbing him thumb across his lips, probably completely unaware that he was distracting her.

When his eyes darted to the side to look at Betty, she saw a quick flash of a smirk behind his hand and revised her thought. _Maybe_ not _so unaware_.

Auror Keller sighed, the quill dropping as the magic cut from it. With a tap of his wand, the parchment rolled up and he tucked it into his robes, standing. “Well, if you think of anything, Betty, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Of course, Auror Keller,” replied Betty politely, standing. Jughead scrambled to do so at her side, glowering at the Auror, which Betty understood but didn’t think was very helpful at the moment. She elbowed him in the side.

Jughead expelled a loud “oof” of air, making the Auror eye them suspiciously, but he gave a tiny nod to her parents, and saw himself out. Auror Keller wasn’t the only one who was suspicious, as both her parents were giving them matching narrow-eyed looks.

Alice turned her eyes on her daughter. “Betty. Would you mind telling us what you and _Jughead_ were doing out on a school night? In the forest? Alone?”

Hal, on the other side of the room, was staring particularly hard at Jughead. Betty shifted and squared her shoulders. “First of all, it was Friday night. The last I checked, there isn’t any school on Saturdays.”

Alice pursed her lips and Betty knew she was treading on thin ice. “As for what we were doing – Polly mentioned the broomstick and the spot in the woods when we were talking.” She eyed her parents, shifting her attention from her mother to her father. “You know? For that totally crazy dream she had of running away and starting a new life with Jason on a farm?”

Hal’s face went the colour of sour milk.

“Betty...” he warned, his voice trailing off.

“ _What_ , dad?” she snarked back, eyes darting back and forth between her parents. “Are you suddenly going to try to justify yourselves? Sticking Polly in St. Mungo’s because she’s _pregnant_ of all things? God, I know the magical world can be backwards, but this is beyond pale.”

“Elizabeth!” hissed her mother, Alice’s dark green eyes moving towards Jughead, standing pale and unmoving beside her. “Not now, young lady.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Juggie was there for everything – if you’re worried about airing any dirty laundry, it’s a bit late for that.”

Alice sucked in air between her teeth, but both her parents were unsure of what to say next. Betty rarely ever spoke back, and her recent temper spike as well as ability to push their buttons was something they were not used to. When the silence between the four fell too thick, Betty nodded her head and turned to – her boyfriend? Her best friend? Her – _Jughead_ , and said, “I think it’s time we head back to Hogwarts.”

He slanted his eyes at her, and then her parents, but nodded back slowly, and edged behind and around her until he was out of the living room and in the foyer. Betty tossed a look over her shoulder at her parents, who stood unmoving, watching their youngest daughter walk out of their house and lives. Jughead opened the door and stepped through, Betty on his heels.

“I’ll Owl,” she said, and then shut the door firmly behind her.

*

Betty met up with her friends in the Upper Common Room later that weekend, on the Sunday. It was before lunch and everyone had decided to meet up there. However, there was a strange tension running through everyone – Betty knew that she and Jughead were nervous and anxious about the Polly situation, and possibly Kevin had heard from his father – but Veronica and Archie? Betty eyed her friend and made a mental note to speak to her about what happened Friday night.

Now, however, Betty curled her arms around her knees, bringing them up on the couch in front of the fireplace, and hugged them to her chest as she spoke. “My mom and dad don’t want to get the Aurors involved. They don’t want anyone to know that she ran away, or about her _shameful condition_.”

Veronica rolled her eyes from an armchair parallel to the couch Betty was on, swirling around her mug of hot chocolate, she had somehow convinced a house elf to provide her with earlier. “Please. What decade is this?”

Betty sent her a grateful smile, knowing her friend was on the same page. Opposite of her on the other couch, next to Kevin, Archie leaned forward, his eyes on her. Jughead lounged beside her on the couch, lounging with a head propped up on his hand, perched on the armrest. She could feel the hot stare of his eyes as she recounted what they learned.

“Also, since she knew where Jason’s getaway broom was, they’re afraid people might think that she burned it and that if she did—”

“—She could be the murderer, trying to cover her tracks,” finished Jughead with a laconic roll of the words across his tongue, bringing everyone’s attention to him instead.

“Who did burn the broom and all the potions and stuff, then?” asked Archie, a furrow between his red eyebrows as he frowned.

Betty cast her eyes at Jughead, who raised a single eyebrow at her. She sighed and said, “Auror Keller says it’s possible someone was following us.”

Veronica’s jaw dropped open, and Kevin swore quietly, “Merlin!”

Veronica’s mouth snapped closed and she just shook her head. “Honestly, guys, we should just move.”

Betty ignored her and rested her chin on her knees, eyes downcast as she muttered, “Guys, what if Polly’s really hurt? What if whoever killed Jason is coming after her next?”

She sighed, and the couch squeaked a bit as Jughead sat up and let his hand rest comfortingly on her back. It then slid up and around to her shoulder. She let her knees drop and reached for the hand dangling over her shoulder, clutching at his hand in thanks.

Veronica and Kevin’s eyes greedily followed their movements.

“Betty, even though your parents don’t want to, maybe you should go to the Aurors,” offered Veronica quietly.

Kevin nodded. “Second it. We can talk to my dad together about how he has to be discreet.”

Betty felt Jughead tense at the mention of Kevin’s father. Jughead rolled his eyes, not moving his arm from around Betty as he spoke. “No offense, Kev, but your dad answers to a higher authority than God: the Blossoms. They’re the first people that he would tell.”

Betty bit her lip in response and nodded, her eyes meeting her friends’ in apology. “And if there’s anyone to keep this a secret from, it’s the Blossoms. They’d twist it around and go after Polly out of spite.”

Kevin flushed a bit under the rebuke, and Veronica leaned forward from her perch on the edge of the armchair, putting the mug down on the coffee table. “How can we help? Tell us, B, and we’ll do it.”

“You could always do one of those searches.”

The voice wasn’t one from their group, and everyone turned to face Reggie, who stood looming over them behind Veronica’s chair. His hair was dripping wet and he was looking only at Betty, a rather solemn look on his face.

“What?” asked Kevin, glancing at him and then their blonde friend.

Reggie tossed his head back, resuming a more arrogant pose. “Whatchyamacallit? Those search thingies. When someone goes missing, right? The whole community gets together and goes looking for the dead body or clues. Or whatever.”

Betty winced at the thought of Polly dead, and Jughead, seeing it, turned his head to glare at the tall Gryffindor.

Archie, obliviously, blinked and said, “That’s... a good idea, Reg.” He turned to his oldest childhood friend and asked, “What do you think, Betty? Do you think we can help you organize a missing person’s search?”

Betty looked at her redhead friend and nodded slowly. “If anyone should find Polly, it should be us – before the Blossom’s do.”

Reggie let out a whoop that startled Veronica enough that she slid off the edge of the chair and popped quickly to her feet, her hand at her throat where her pearl necklace rested.

“Then B and I have some planning to do,” she announced with as much aplomb as she could, given that she nearly fell to the floor. She held a hand out to her fellow Hufflepuff and Betty slowly rose to her feet, Jughead’s arm slipping away to rest along the back of the couch. “Later, boys.”

Once the two teenagers were outside of the Upper Common Room, Veronica spun on her heel and widened her eyes.

Betty took a step back. “What, V?”

“Did I just notice Hogwarts’ very own Sirius Black put his arm around you?” she asked, eyes sparkling. This was what she and Kevin had been waiting for since Betty had told them about her crush on her oldest friend, weeks ago.

Betty’s eyes slid up to look at the stone ceiling above her. “Okay, so these past couple of days, I haven’t been in a great place, emotionally. And Jughead was really there for me...”

“ _Merlin_!” gasped Veronica. “Well – Swoon! In that case, if he helped my girl navigate some turbulent waters, well then, Veronica Lodge approves.” She then eyed Betty. “Did you kiss him yet?”

Betty brought her eyes to meet her friend’s and then blushed. Heavily.

Veronica chuckled. “Thatta girl. Come on, let’s go find your sister – I totally have an idea for where we can start the search.”

*

The rest of Sunday was busy; Betty and Veronica went to Professor Flitwick and then their Head of House, Professor Vector, with their plans for the search. Since both Flitwick and Vector knew Polly, having taught her (as they knew her parents), both were willing to accommodate and help Betty and Veronica plan the search.

Knowing that Flitwick had a soft spot for Betty as well, helped – he insisted on visiting Headmistress McGonagall with the plan, who would hopefully announce it at dinner that evening and allow absence slips to those who wanted to help look.

At lunch, Betty and Veronica were in the middle of plotting possible routes Polly could’ve taken from St. Mungo’s, a map of England and Scotland in front of them on the Hufflepuff table and held down on either end with a bowl of potatoes and a plate of sausages, when there was a commotion by the Slytherin table.

They looked up in time to see Fangs Foggarty, Cedric Evans, Edward Malloy, as well as a Ravenclaw seventh year, move toward the front of the Great Hall with ashen faces. Malloy was holding a piece of parchment in shaking hands, and glanced over his shoulder at his Head of House, Professor Slughorn, nervously, who tapped his wand on his wine glass, making the clinking noise echo throughout the hall.

“Um?” began Malloy, his voice cracking. “The – um – the Slytherin Quidditch team – would, uh – like to, um – _apologise_ – for, um—”

Betty turned and shared an incredulous look with Veronica. Chuck had been suspended almost a week ago, since she and Veronica had their Polyjuice incident, but there had been no news about any of the others involved with the Rites or what rumours they had been spreading through the Hogwarts population.

Fangs scowled and folded his arms, before loudly announcing, “We’re very sorry for making up rumours about our classmates.”

Slughorn cleared his throat loudly.

Fangs’ scowl slipped right into bitterness and Evan mumbled, “Sorry – sexual – rumours.”

The Ravenclaw twisted his hands around and said, “It won’t ever happen again.”

The girls who had been the target of these rumours – from every table in the hall – were not impressed, but Betty, knowing the truth about the Rites, felt a bit sick to her stomach. The possibility of people losing their magic was much worse and likely for Cedric Evans and the Ravenclaw, both being seventh years. They would need to do a lot of grovelling to find someone to help them complete their tasks.

She turned to look at the Gryffindor table, noticing a very stern-looking Reggie glaring at the four in front of the school, something hard and unforgiving in his eyes. He sensed her gaze, and his eyes turned from the group to her. The look softened, and he tipped his head at her.

Betty narrowed her eyes and then deliberately turned back to face forward, Veronica unaware of the byplay between her and Reggie. However, Betty’s eyes skipped over the Ravenclaw table to the Slytherin one, and her heart clenched when she realized that Jughead, through the crowd of students, was staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Vaguely, Betty heard Slughorn announcing that Slytherin would be losing the majority of their Quidditch players for the season, and that Slytherin was effectively out of running for the Quidditch Cup. There were cheers at that announcement from Gryffindor – their largest school rival – and Slughorn, grudgingly, continued, “They will still play during the matches but won’t accumulate any points. In addition, all students involved will be serving a yearlong detention with me, as well as a loss of one hundred points. Each.”

And with that, Slytherin was effectively out of the running for the House Cup, too.

Eventually, Veronica began chattering about the route again, her finger moving from spot to spot on the map, but Betty couldn’t concentrate. She muttered a quick goodbye and picked up her bag, dashing out of the Great Hall with no plan on where to go.

Eventually, she just stopped in some random hallway, pacing back and forth, running her hands across her tightly-pulled ponytail.

Reggie found her after a few minutes, glancing around as he strolled up to her. “The seventh floor?”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“This is the seventh floor,” he repeated, looking at a portrait of dancing trolls. “The only thing up on this floor is the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers, and they’re in a completely different wing. Did you get turned around? Looking for Andrews to comfort you?” He eyed her. “Or are snakes more your type, Blondie?”

Betty pursed her lips in annoyance. She rummaged through her bag and found the parchment she was searching for, crumbling it in her hand and thrusting it at him.

Reggie, startled, took it from her. He carefully unfolded it, eyes skimming down the list she had memorized. A small smirk appeared on his lips.

“Where’d you get this, Cooper?” he asked slowly.

“Someone found it and gave it to me,” she replied coolly. “You should be more careful with proof of your conquests, Reggie.”

“Huh, conquests,” he chuckled. “I like that word.” He glanced at her. “So – now you know, despite not being initiated. What are you going to do about this?”

Betty crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

“You gonna write about it in the Black and Gold?” asked Reggie, defensively. “Because you could bring down a lot of people with this, Betty.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Because of Jones.”

Betty resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “No! It’s not just because of Jug.” She looked up at him. “Merlin – we’ve already ruined Chuck’s life and now those other Slytherins earlier today. Someone of them won’t complete the list, will they?”

Reggie frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Why _don’t_ you?” she countered. “It’s – it’s our _magic_ , Reggie. Something that makes us, us. And for those Purebloods? Losing it means they’ll be squibs – thrown out of their families, the only life they’ve ever known. How can I stand having that on my head?”

“How can you _not_?” he counted, just as she had in the same tone. He looked down at her seriously. “Betty – what they did – it wasn’t right or cool. Yeah, you and Veronica went a bit extreme in your reaction, but – can you honestly tell me you’d be okay knowing what you know now about them and _not_ do anything?”

Betty felt ire flash through her at Reggie’s words, a burning hate following it at those students getting away with humiliating more girls – she knew that darkness in her was begging for release, and she sighed heavily, knowing that she would’ve done something to stop them.

“Jason was part of it, too,” said Reggie quietly.

Surprise spilled over her, and Betty’s eyes darted up to Reggie’s. “What?”

“Polly knew, I think,” he continued. “Not at first, but then – I think he fell for her. He would’ve tried to let her know. And I think –” Reggie looked away, a flush spreading across his face. “I’m pretty sure they were pretty heavily involved by the end of last year, enough that he was nearly done his list.”

 _Ugh,_ thought Betty, now realizing how her sister got pregnant. “Yeah, I didn’t need to hear that.”

 They were silent for a minute or two, each looking in opposite directions down the hallways and nowhere near each other.

“I don’t hate him, you know.”

Betty looked back at Reggie, who was scuffing the tip of one shoe on the floor. “What? Who?”

“Jones,” said Reggie. “Jughead. I don’t hate him.”

“You sure as hell don’t like him,” retorted Betty, crossing her eyes and shifting her weight to one leg, cocking her hip out as she challenged him.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, he’s cocky, isn’t he?”

Betty gave him an incredulous stare. “Pot, kettle.”

Reggie winced. “Anyway, I can tell you care about him. You going to help with his list?”

She bit her lip and it was her turn to look away and flush heavily. “That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”

“Well, you’ve got some time, anyway,” said Reggie, “But it’s a long list to get through. Some you can double or triple up on, but –”

“Reggie. Seriously. Don’t,” sputtered Betty, blushing a furious shade of scarlet.

The taller Gryffindor stared hard at her for a moment or two, then finally nodded. His eyes scoured her from head to toe, as if assessing her for something – and Betty had no idea what – but he nodded again, and turned on his heel, walking away. “My lips are sealed, Lorelei.”

 _The hell?_ she thought, rubbing her forehead tiredly. _What’s next? Voldemort’s resurrection?_

*

Near the Hogsmeade train station, near the Eversgreen Forest pathway that she and Jughead had erupted from to find Auror Keller (before it turned into the Forbidden Forest), Betty stood in front of a large crowd of volunteers. Many friends of hers, her parents, and Polly’s, as well as the Quidditch players and Hogwarts staff she was on friendly terms with had all turned out that Monday morning.

Everyone was dressed for the weather, in jackets for the teenagers, or robes with warming charms placed on them for the adults. Despite the sun being out, there was a chill in the air.

Betty looked up from the map of Hogsmeade Professor Flitwick had used _gemino_ on to duplicate and distribute amongst the group. “Okay – so we know that the Knight Bus dropped Polly off in Hogsmeade east of here, by the Shrieking Shack. The location of Jason’s broomstick is west, along the old forest path. If Polly wanted to leave Hogsmeade without anyone seeing her, she probably would’ve left through,” Betty trailed off and took a quick glance at the map. “Here: the old forest path towards Greendale, the Muggle village to the west.”

There were a few uneasy shifts from the adults who knew of Greendale. Betty, too, was uneasy – although a Muggle town, it was generally avoided due to the large influx of supernatural creatures running from the hybrid restriction laws set up for werewolves and vampires; if they resided in a non-magical settlement, they didn’t have to registered. Being within proximity of Hogwarts, with its natural abundance of magic, was a beacon to them.

“Is everyone clear on what we’re doing?” asked Jughead, from his spot beside her. She canted a smile at him, so glad he stood beside her and supporting her.

The crowd nodded back, and slowly, they travelled down the cobblestone path from Hogsmeade’s train station and through the dense brush of Eversgreen forest. Betty took point, leading the group through and along the path, she and Jughead had taken a few days prior. Every so often, someone would shout, “Polly! _Polly!_ ” through the trees.

The path through the forest was muddy and uneven, and often there were low hanging branches and overgrown bushes that had to be pushed aside; even worse, some didn’t stay on the path, spreading out across the springy, mossy floor.

Betty, her nerves tightly wound, swallowed and licked her lips, bringing her hands up to cup around her mouth. “POLLY!”

Beside her, Archie sidled up and shouted her sister’s name. They stopped for a moment, straining their ears, but only the sounds of the other volunteers reached them.

Archie sighed. “Hey, all this stuff with your sister, I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I wasn’t there to help you.”

Betty turned to look at him, and wondered how their friendship could deteriorate so quickly; it was only six weeks ago that she was eager to confess her crush, and that they were close to one another. Now, she shared more with Veronica, Kevin, and Jughead than Archie. They were being pulled in different directions, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about her close, childhood friend taking a different path – after all, she still loved him – just not romantically.

She smiled at him instead. “It’s okay, Arch, you’re here now.”

“Still,” he pressed, blue eyes boring into her. “If you need me – I know I haven’t always been here – but I want to be.”

Betty wondered about that statement. Her eyes narrowed but she deliberately plastered a smile on her face and perkily replied, “Thanks! I’ll keep you in mind.”

She turned and continued to call out her sister’s name, eyes roving through the trees and leaves – a mishmash of green, red, yellow, and orange as autumn descended in full in the Scottish highlands. They were almost at the place where the old Blossom Mill was, a dilapidated building rotted from half a century of neglect.

Then – there was a break in the trees and Betty sucked in a breath, holding it.

The entire area was scorched black, nothing surviving the onslaught of Fiendfyre that raged through the forest the other night. The clearing was large – the fire had raged uncontrollably for hours, creating a blob-shaped mark in the forest. The few remaining trees in the clearing were blackened, and there was a thick blanket of black ash on the ground, coating partially melted rocks.

A hush descended on the volunteer who had joined the search. From the corner of her eyes, Betty saw her mother reach for her father’s hand and clench it tightly.

“Merlin,” whispered Reggie from behind her, horror in his voice.

Far away – but not more than maybe the length of the Quidditch pitch – opposite of them, a bright red figure appeared, with a few others following, including Kevin’s dad. Her tall friend stepped forward upon seeing his father, and then swore under his breath.

Betty’s stomach dropped.

Cheryl Blossom led her parents, along with Auror Keller, Ginger, and Tina, and a few others Betty knew to be upperclassmen, and several other Aurors from Hogsmeade.

They strode across the scorched earth, and Betty fully expected Cheryl to begin the antagonistic dialogue, but was surprised when Penelope Blossom instead came to a halt in front of her mother, eyes furious as she bit out, “Alice Cooper, where is she? Where’s Polly?”

An incredulous look spread across her mother’s face before she schooled it into a blank mask. “You think if I knew that, I’d be out here, potentially dinner for an Acromantula?”

Cheryl rolled her shoulders back, and with her lips loose and fluid, the red colour bright against her pale skin, spoke up. “Face facts, Mommie Dearest, Polly killed Jason. She escaped from the asylum once, who’s to say she didn’t before, say, the day Jason got murdered?”

Alice sent Cheryl a dirty look and Betty stepped forward. She felt someone grasp at her jacket’s sleeve – not sure if it was Archie, Kevin, or even Reggie – but she slipped past and stood in solidarity next to her mother as Cheryl continued.

“The noose is tightening around your murdering daughter’s neck. I know it, Auror Keller knows it.”

Kevin’s father started at the words, and took a step forward, raising a hand. “Hold on now—”

Cheryl continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “And I promise you, when we find her, and we will find her, the entire town of Hogsmeade will know, too.”

Hal’s face deepened into a frown, and a part of Betty’s heart ached – she knew that the Blossoms lost their son and brother, but she was losing her family slowly too.

Alice’s face never cracked under the Blossom onslaught. Instead, she coolly looked at their daughter, and then travelled to her fellow classmate and Slytherin, before settling finally on Clifford.

“You don’t know a damn thing,” she finally said. She turned on her heel, back towards Hogsmeade, dragging her husband and daughter with her. Betty struggled to keep up as her boot caught on the ash and mud below them, but she dutifully followed.

“Mom?” she asked. “What are we doing?”

As they crowd parted for them, Alice turned her head partially and sniped, “We’re going to do what we Coopers do best, Betty. _Write the narrative_.”

 _What?_ thought Betty, eyes wide. It wasn’t until they stood inside the ticket booth at the train station in Hogsmeade that she realized what was going on. She watched her mother crimp, twirling her wand along her hair and ensuring it curled just so.

“Mom, is this a good idea? I thought we were trying to contain this,” whispered Betty, nervously clenching her hands together.

Alice snapped the compact mirror she had floating in front of her closed with her free hand, sliding it into her purse while she dropped her wand arm at the same time. She turned to her daughter, raising a single, perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Well, we were, Elizabeth,” she said, in her perfectly controlled voice, but Betty could see the strain at the corner of her eyes and hear the slight warble in her voice. “But now that the kneazle’s out of the bag, we’re in full-on damage-control mode. The Blossoms have their version of the events, but they don’t know the whole story, at least not yet. And that gives us a momentary advantage.”

Betty bit her lip. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Alice frowned. “Oh, you can, and you will. You’ll be standing right beside me and your father, a united front against the hordes of Hogsmeade. Let’s see the Blossoms try to smear us then.”

She sighed, and followed her mother outside, standing next to her as she and her father flanked the matriarch of their family – the one with the old Pureblood connections and name; after all, once a Selwyn, always a Selwyn.

In front of them, below the ticket platform, the many volunteers that Betty had gathered stood mixed in with those that the Blossoms brought. Her eyes sought out Jughead, who stood next to Archie. He gave her a tiny smile, her stomach fluttered a bit, and her nerves eased the tiniest amount. Archie was watching her family carefully, with Veronica and Kevin further to the back, eyes wide and on her in worry. Even Reggie stood off to the side, arms crossed as he leaned against a lamppost.

Betty took a deep breath, fidgeting a bit and clasping her hands in front of her finally, eyes downcast. Her mother’s eyes assessed the crowd, spotting the reporter she and Hal knew from the _Daily Prophet_ , as well as Luna Lovegood there to represent _the Quibbler_ , her radish earrings distinctive and mishmash robes bright against the dark colours of the Hogsmeade residents and Hogwarts professors. She stood beside Professor Longbottom, their height difference comical if it were any other day.

“There’s been a swirl of rumors today about our daughter, Polly. And we’re standing here to tell you that they’re all false,” said Alice Cooper, her voice ringing out clear across the crowd. Her eyes swept everyone, and Betty could feel her shoulders tense at the next words. “Yes, Polly was seeking treatment in a private care facility, and she was under strict observation even at the time of Jason Blossom’s death. When she found out about the murder, she was beside herself with grief.”

 _Here it comes_ , she thought, glancing up.

Her mother was looking straight at the Blossoms as she spoke the next, life-changing words. “You see, my daughter, Polly, is pregnant with Jason Blossom’s baby,” announced Alice.

Penelope’s mouth dropped open and Betty saw Clifford reach for his wife in a jerky movement, while Cheryl stood dumbfounded.

Alice continued speaking, her voice carefully wobbling and trembling as tears filled her eyes. Betty knew most of it was real, but some of it was faked, if only from careful study over the years. “Polly wouldn’t hurt a snitch, let alone the father of her unborn child. Polly, darling, if you’re hearing this, reading this, please come home.”

The crowd began muttering and shifting restlessly; the reporter her parents knew immediately Disapparated, and the pop startled enough people that it broke up the search party. The professors were the first to leave, as well as the majority of those with the Blossoms. Auror Keller stuck around a bit, speaking to the Blossoms and then her parents, but Betty couldn’t stay.

“We’re getting out of here,” whispered Veronica, as she and Kevin (as well as Josie and Reggie, strangely enough), came up to her as soon as she stepped down from the raised platform.

Betty looked at her friend curiously. “Where are you going?”

Veronica winced, glancing out at the crowd. “I just need some space.”

Betty followed her gaze, and saw that her mother stood awfully close to Archie’s dad. At the same time though, she was following along closely to whatever he was asking of Archie, who stood with Jughead, Moose, and another Gryffindor she didn’t know.

“Do you want me to come?” asked Betty.

Veronica shook her head. “B, you need to find Polly. That’s way more important than me and my crisis at home.” She flashed her friend a grin. “‘Sides, I’ve got Kev.”

“Damn straight,” he piped up, grinning at them both.

“And some eye candy,” continued Veronica, eyes sliding to Reggie, who preened, “and my best celeb girl,” to which Josie batted her eyelashes. “I think blowing some steam will do me good and we can then talk about things later, okay?”

Betty nodded slowly. “If you’re sure, V.”

“Absolutely, B,” replied Veronica, and the two girls leaned forward at the same time, pressing their foreheads together for a moment, before separating. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

Reggie snorted behind them, and both girls turned to him.

“What?” he asked, pointing out at the crowd, which was mostly gone. “I’m pretty sure Jones is going to be walking Miss Touched By an Angel home.”

Betty winced at the pop culture reference, and turned to see what Reggie was pointing at; Jughead stood separate from the crowd, looking awkward as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and shuffling against the curious gazes of five people.

She grinned at him, and he ducked his head in response. Kevin chuckled and Veronica pushed her forward, turning on her heel and leading her group away, in the opposite direction and back towards Hogsmeade.

Betty strode up to Jughead, who bashfully glanced up at her. He nudged her shoulder with his. “Home, Jeeves?”

She stuck her tongue out, tucking her arm through his. “What was that about with Mr. Andrews?”

“He needs some help for a construction contract he has,” answered Jughead, as they began walking past the station, away from the train station and the Sunnyside trailer park that made its home on the other side of the tracks. “I told Archie I’d help out – so did Moose and a few others. I’ll probably ask Kevin, too. We’ll start after classes tomorrow.”

They  fell into silence as they ambled down the cobblestone path of the main drag of Hogsmeade, idly noticing the frosted windows and busy patrons inside the Three Broomsticks. Otherwise, the streets were dead.

“Hey, you didn’t have to walk me home,” she finally said, glancing up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Uh, there’s a killer on the loose, remember? Besides, isn’t this what—” He stopped, swallowing heavily and glancing away before looking down at her, a blush across his strong nose. “You know... What people like us, who’ve gone through—what we’ve gone through, do?”

Betty bit back a smile at the flustered attempts of him trying to label them. Instead, she caught his eye, and blushed heavily and he grinned in response, pleased.

But the smile faded from her lips quickly, and since he was still looking at her, he noticed. “What is it? I mean, besides everything.”

Betty sighed. “She wouldn’t have run away if it wasn’t for me, Jug.”

Jughead scoffed. “Betty, your parents were the ones lying to her, and keeping her in the dark. You did the right thing telling her the truth.”

Betty made a tiny face, but nodded, looking straight ahead at the curved street ahead of them that led to her house. “It’s funny. This isn’t the first time Polly’s run away from home. When she was nine, she and my mom got in this _huge_ fight, and she disappeared for hours. The whole neighborhood was out looking for her.”

She knew she looked wistful – it was a terrible memory, but it was one about her sister, and anything dealing with Polly right now made her eager for her sister’s return. She could picture that day so clear, despite being eight. She could remember the neighbourhood looking for Polly, but she was at Archie’s, with Archie, eating cookies that his mother had made. At the end of the night, no one had found Polly, so she returned home, and then decided to go to her sister’s favourite hide-n-seek spot...

“How far did she get?” asked Jughead, tilting his head to look at her, breaking into her thoughts.

She stopped moving, eyes wide.

Jughead stopped, too. “What?”

Betty withdrew her arm from his, looking up at him in surprise. She then reached forward, cupping his cheeks the same way he had when he first kissed her. She drew his face down to hers, without thought, without second guesses, and pressed her lips tight against his.

His lips parted under hers, his breath hot, and she slanted her head to deepen the kiss, tracing her tongue across his bottom lip before drawing back. He followed a bit, eyes fluttering open, staring at her with pupils blown and wide. There was a tiny hint of a smile on his face, an upturned, fangy one that read of satisfaction and impishness.

“Thank you for walking me home,” she breathed, and vaguely realized it was déjà vu of their kiss on the astronomy tower. “I know where she is – I’ll owl you later! Goodnight!”

She left him on the street, running the rest of the way to her house and bursting through the front door so hard that it swung and banged heavily against the wall.

“Mom? Dad?” she shouted as she stopped in the foyer, peeling her jacket and dumping it on a bench. When no one answered her, she ran up the stairs, and then stood below the attic entrance. She tugged on the cord to bring down the stairs, and once they touched the hardwood of the second floor, she cautiously stepped on them.

Each step echoed with a creak.

“Polly?” she called out, reaching the top and peering into the darkened attic. She saw cobwebs and piled suitcases, relics of the Cooper and Selwyn families. “It’s okay. I’m alone. Mom and Dad aren’t here.”

She turned, catching her reflection in an old mirror, and gasped loudly. When her heart calmed, Betty gave a nervous laugh. “Now you know why you weren’t Sorted into Gryffindor,” she muttered.

A hand and arm appeared over her shoulder in the mirror and then clamped across her mouth, making her squeak in fight.

“ _Shh_...” Polly stood behind her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Betty, you have to help me. Please.”

She released her and Betty stumbled, turning to face her sister instead of looking at her through the large reflective surface. Polly looked fine, if not pale. Betty glanced down and saw a gash along her left ankle, which was clotted.

“How did you get up here without anyone seeing you?” asked Betty, leading Polly to the least cluttered area of the attic, sitting her down on a large steam trunk.

Polly gave a tiny laugh, a hand on her tiny bump. “I wrote the book on getting in and out of this house. And Dad still hasn’t removed me from the family wards.”

Betty frowned and raised Polly’s leg, looking at the cut. She sighed. “Polly, everyone’s worried sick, why did you leave the home? You could have really hurt yourself even more than just this cut.”

Polly’s face settled into a mulish expression that Betty recognized as their mother’s. “I couldn’t just stay there, waiting for someone who was never gonna show. Jason and I, we had a plan to go to this farm, in the Cotswolds, and raise the baby. It’s where I still want to go, but I don’t have any Galleons, I don’t have anything.”

Betty bit her lip, kneeling on the floor as she examined the cut some more. She prodded it and Polly hissed. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Mom and Dad want me to give the baby up for adoption, they made that very clear. And that’s not what I want.”

Betty glanced up, sitting back on her behind. “Well, this is their grandchild, Polly. Everyone knows you’re pregnant now. There’s no more stigma.”

Polly’s face hardened. “You don’t know what they’ll do. And I won’t have my baby raised in a home that doesn’t want it.”

“Polly—”

From below, through the attic opening, they heard the front door open and Alice shout, “Betty? Where are you?”

Betty turned back to Polly and whispered, “Give me a few days. I’ll find you someplace safe, here in Hogsmeade. Please, Polly, I cannot lose you again.”

Polly eyes widened, hearing the steps of their mother as she began moving around. “Okay,” whispered Polly. “I believe you.”

Betty sent her a quick smile, and then dashed down the creaky attic steps, tossing the heavy pull-down stairs up to latch. She then threw herself into her bedroom, and onto her bed, where she grabbed a nearby book and flipped it open to random page just as her mother poked her head in.

“When did you get home?” Alice asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“About twenty minutes ago,” she replied innocently.

Alice’s face didn’t change, but her tone shifted into disapproval. “By yourself?”

“Jughead walked me home.”

The disapproval didn’t disappear, but did turn more into resignation. Betty took the change to ask her mother about Polly. “Mom, when we find Polly, she’s going to live with us, right? At this point, there’s no reason to hide or banish her, is there?”

Alice’s eyes went wide, and she stepped further into the room. “Oh, of course not, honey. She’s welcome back.”

Betty nodded. “Where will the baby sleep?”

Alice visibly faltered in her step, and she hovered between the door to Betty’s room and being half-way inside. “Sweetie, um, we’ve talked to your sister about this – before everything –, and she’s agreed to put the baby up for adoption.”

Betty feigned surprise at the news. “Polly did?”

“This is a very difficult decision for a young mother to make, but given the circumstances, it’s the best,” continued Alice, her voice strong.

 _Liar_ , thought Betty.

“Why do you ask, honey?”

Betty watched as her mother turned her back to her daughter, reaching forward to reorganize some of the perfume bottles on her vanity. She stared hard at her mother’s back, wondering if she could feel the burn. “No reason. Just curious.”

Eventually, Alice left, and Betty flopped back on the bed. _If only I could talk to Kev or V right now! Both are busy and Veronica doesn’t have a mirror yet_ , she thought, blinking up at the ceiling. _Not like I’m any closer to a breakthrough anyway_.

She bit her lip and rolled over, drawing her wand from her wrist holster and flicking it at her desk. She always had copies of her research progress on her, and she summoned the parchment. If she was going to be stuck thinking of plans for Polly, then she would need access to instant communication. Completing her mirrors now was incredibly important.

She remained awake long after her parents went to sleep, a single candle flickering at her bedside as she scribbled on her parchment until her mirror with Kevin vibrated on her bedside table.

Betty reached for it, surprised at the late call.

“Kev?” she asked. Instead, Veronica’s face appeared.

“Hey,” her new friend said, miserably.

“V, what’s wrong? What happened?” asked Betty, sitting up carefully to not upset her inkpot.

Veronica sniffed on the other end of the mirror. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked Kevin for the mirror tonight. I’ll give it back to him when we’re at Hogwarts.”

“Not at all,” answered Betty, shifting to sit up against her pillows. She flicked her wand at the door and muttered, “ _Silencio_ ,” then turned back. “I’m actually working on a mirror for you.”

Veronica’s face brightened. “Really?”

“Yeah, for everyone,” replied Betty. “So we can all talk to each other without sending owls back and forth at all hours.”

“That’s great,” sighed Veronica, “And it’ll be so much easier than just borrowing Kev’s.”

Betty sensed that Veronica didn’t want to speak about what was on her mind, so instead she summarized what happened when she returned home after the search party. “... I don’t want Polly to run away. But if she can’t live at home, then I don’t know? Maybe, I can rent her an apartment.”

Veronica snorted. “What money do you have saved up? No, B, let me talk to my mom.”

Betty shook her head. “No way. You have your own stuff you’re dealing with right now, V.”

Veronica’s dark eyes met Betty’s and she gave her blonde friend a hard stare. “Betty, Polly needs Healers, she needs prenatal vitamins. Don’t worry about my mom, Betty, she’ll want to help. Let _us_ help. I’ll ask her now.”

“Wait, V—”

Veronica put the mirror down, face up, so all Betty saw was the ceiling of some fancy room at the Pembroke that she would never have the money to visit or see. She knew that the Lodges were renting a space there until Hermione Lodges’ lawyers cleared up the use of the Lodge mansion near where Cheryl and Reggie lived.

Moments later, Veronica picked up the mirror again. “Is Polly safe right now?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” said Betty, thinking of her sister, who was probably cold and miserable in the attic above her.

“Can you sneak out? Come over now,” instructed Veronica. “Mom said it was okay. And the sooner you get Polly somewhere safe and warm, the better.”

Betty sighed. “Are you sure, V?”

Veronica nodded. “Now, scat! I expect you two over here within the next twenty minutes.”

Betty closed the conversation connection and crept out of her room, gingerly pulling at the attic cord and bringing the stairs down. She retraced her path and saw Polly curled into a tiny ball near the window and the steam trunk she was sitting on earlier, her face lined even in sleep.

“Pol,” whispered Betty, reaching out and shaking her sister by the shoulder, “Polly, wake up.”

“Mmm? Betty?” Polly’s eyes fluttered opened. “What’s going on?”

“C’mon,” whispered Betty, reaching and helping Polly to her feet. “I’ve got somewhere safe for you to go.”

Minutes later, they were outside of the Cooper residence and walking down the darkened streets of Hogsmeade until they reached the Pembroke, Betty having explained Veronica and Hermione’s generous offer. The main door was locked, but Veronica was leaning out of a second-floor window over them main drag, watching for them. As soon as she spotted them, she pointed around the corner and to the back.

“There’s a fire escape,” she called down, pitching her voice low in the still of the night. “I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs.”

Betty led the way, Polly behind her, and soon they were climbing inside of a window and then into the warmth of the suite, the Lodges were renting. Veronica was wearing a pretty, sparkling dress that Betty had never seen, and her mother stood beside her in a purple silk dressing gown.

“Mrs. Lodge, are you sure I can stay? I don’t want to be an imposition on you,” asked Polly, blinking up at the dark-haired woman, who smiled gently at Polly and drew her forward.

“Of course you can stay,” said Hermione, a soft look in her eyes. “As long as you need.” She moved her eyes to Betty and finished, “Anything for Alice Cooper’s daughters.”

Polly then visibly wilted, the stress of the situation falling from her shoulders. “Thank you, Mrs. Lodge,” she sighed happily, turning then to her sister’s new friend. Betty beamed from beside Veronica. “And thank you, Veronica.”

“Yes, thank you so much, V,” said Betty, turning to her friend.

“You’re welcome, girls,” said Hermione, moving them from the window and deeper into the living area of the suite they entered. “There’s a spare bedroom here, away from the door and towards the back of the suite. And please, now that we’re going to be roommates, Polly, it’s Hermione.”

Polly beamed and Betty felt herself relax in what felt like the first time since she learned of Jason’s murder.

*

_Now, we would hear from the person who was closest to him those days leading up to his disappearance: Polly Cooper._

_She spoke of how a casual conversation turned into an epic, forbidden romance. How, for reasons still murky, their respective parents tried to tear them apart. How their break-up was short-lived, because Polly soon learned she was pregnant with Jason’s baby. How they became secretly engaged with his grandmother’s blessing and her heirloom ring, and made plans to run away together, to start a new life._

_And how their dreams of escape went up in Fiendfyre._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're counting down to the end!! Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com) and say hi!


	17. Risk and Reward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I'm sorry. This chapter is 23 pages single-spaced because I couldn't find a good place to break it up, which means the next chapter **might** be shorter. This chapter was also _very_ difficult to write, so I apologise in advance if parts feel stilted or rough.
> 
> I also know A LOT of you were waiting, but it's here - the conversation between Betty and Jughead and the Oath (at the very end though, no cheating and skipping ahead - it's worth the wait, I promise!).
> 
> Also, the Hermione in this story? Hermione **Lodge**. Hermione Granger will not make an appearance.

*

XVII: Risk and Reward

*

 **Barry** : Things aren’t always what they seem. Our fears can play tricks on us, making us afraid to change course. Afraid to move on. But usually hidden behind our fears are second chances, waiting to be seized. Second chances at life. At glory. At family. At love. And these opportunities don’t come around every day. So when they do we have to be brave, take a chance and grab them while we can.

\-- _the Flash_ , 2x04, ‘The Fury of Firestorm’

*

Betty did not return to her house that evening; instead, she slept in Veronica’s bed with her, and Hermione sent an Owl to Professors Vector and McGonagall in the morning that Betty and Veronica would only be returning to their classes for that afternoon, as they were accompanying Polly to the Hogsmeade Auror headquarters.

Hermione led them down the street, her smart heels clicking against the cobblestones in the early hours of the dawn, with the autumn sun just barely streaking across the Highlands, peeking out from behind the snow-capped mountains that surrounded Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.

Auror Keller was waiting for them, an interrogation room set aside for the four women; he floated over a mug of coffee for Hermione Lodge, and then three teas for the younger women. Betty and Hermione flanked Polly while Veronica sat carefully behind her mother.

He carefully set out his parchment for notes, the Quick-Quill standing upright and ready. Once he finally sat, he leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, and asked, “Polly – can you please tell me about you and Jason Blossom?”

And Polly did – from the beginning of their relationship (catching his eye during Hogwarts Dragon’s cheer practice) to their first date (in the kitchens at Hogwarts), and then finally...

“That was the last day you saw him?” Auror Keller asked, leaning forward and focusing his eyes on Betty’s sister.

Polly squirmed a bit in the seat, but nodded. “At the Three Broomsticks, when he told me the plan, that he was going to fake his own death, and then we would meet up. But, before that could happen, my mom and dad sent me away.”

Keller frowned, staring hard at Polly. “One of the Quidditch players said that before he ran away, Jason was dealing illegal potions.”

“Making a one-time delivery!” argued Polly defensively, leaning forward and raising her voice. “He needed,” she took a deep breath and corrected, “ _We_ needed money. To get away and to start over.”

“So Hogwarts’ star Quidditch player becomes a drug mule?”

Betty clenched her hand under the table at her side, so Polly couldn’t see. She understood Auror Keller being a bit cruel with his questioning, but still – Polly had lost the father to her unborn baby. Slandering Jason’s memory wouldn’t help anyone.

“He went to a bar on the other side of the tracks and made a deal with some gang, I don’t know,” replied Polly tersely.

“The Serpents?” asked Keller, sitting up straight.

Betty frowned. _This is new to him._

“He got an address for somewhere in the north of England, where he was supposed to deliver the potions in exchange for galleons,” said Polly.

“The potions you found by Jason’s broom,” prompted Keller.

Polly nodded. “Yeah.”

Keller raised his eyebrows. “That went up in flames.”

Polly leaned forward and slammed her hands down on the table in front of them. The loud sound made Betty jump, as well as Veronica. Worse, she was nervous, her eyes skipping over to Keller who looked at Polly’s hands before looking at her flushed face. Sparks flew along her blonde hair and Betty could feel her magic react to her sister.

“Along with everything I had left of Jason, including the ring his nana gave me, which he was keeping until—”

Hermione frowned. “Okay, Auror Keller, that’s enough for tonight. I think Polly needs her rest.” She reached forward and touched Polly’s shoulder, bringing the young woman to sit back.

“I’ll be in touch, ladies,” replied Keller slowly, eyeing Polly as he stood. He made a gesture toward the door. “I’ll show you out.”

Hermione graciously smiled and stood. “Thank you.”

Betty and Veronica stood with Polly, and Betty leaned forward, whispering, “We’re going to get you through this, okay? But you need to control your temper – your magic almost went haywire there, Pol.”

Polly grimaced but nodded mutely, her eyes downcast as she allowed herself to be led out of the room by Veronica and Betty. The three girls remained silent, following the slim and well-dressed form of Hermione Lodge in resplendent robes of a deep green, parting the few Aurors who stood behind in the main office area of the Auror Department.

Once outside, with the sun at its zenith, Hermione turned to the girls, eyeing them with a soft look. “Polly and I are going to head back to the Pembroke, and you two are going to go to Hogwarts.” She eyed the two blondes in the group next. “We might want to move quickly here, if you want to avoid your mother. I know Alice, and she was always like a niffler after shiny things. She won’t give up.”

Betty smiled at the thought of her mother like the gold-seeking creature; it certainly fit her journalistic profile. Betty and Veronica said their goodbyes and wandered back to the school, both lost in their own thoughts. By mutual decision, they avoided the Great Hall and lunch, working their way upstairs to the Black and Gold office.

It was empty when they arrived, and both girls sat on the couch in the room, far from the murder board they Betty, Kevin, and Jughead had set up weeks ago. With everything else going on, it felt like they had not progressed in learning who killed Jason.

 _How was Polly connected to this?_ thought Betty, her eyes straying to the board, while Veronica stretched and leaned back against the couch. _Is there more to the story than what she told Auror Keller?_

“What a messed up situation,” the raven-haired girl bemoaned, eyes shut.

Betty mentally rolled her eyes at the obvious comment, but didn’t speak.

“What are you going to do?” she continued, and Betty shrugged, looking down at her hands before curling the fingers in to hide the scars.

“I’m not sure what I _can_ do,” replied Betty. “A lot hinges on my parents.”

“Ah, the dreaded Coopers,” declared Kevin as he strolled into the office, making both girls jerk their heads up to stare at him. Behind, Jughead and Archie trailed in, Jughead shutting the door behind him as they did so. Kevin flounced over and sat between the two girls on the couch while Archie and Jughead position themselves around the room by the desks; Jughead sat further back, arms crossed.

“What are you guys doing here?” asked Veronica, eyes wide.

“When you didn’t show up for lunch, we came looking for you,” replied Archie. “McGonagall told Professor Longbottom, who told us. We told Jug.”

Betty’s eyes widened and she pulled her hand from her holster to cast _tempus_. The smoky numbers indicated that they had sat up in the office for some time silently, having missed lunch and a portion of their next class. “You’re going to skip Potions?” she turned to Jughead. “And defense?”

Jughead shrugged.

The door to the Black and Gold swung open once more, revealing someone who they were sure had never stepped foot in the dusty, forgotten room previously. The tall redhead turned her eyes on the two girls on the couch.

“And Charms!” she announced as the door bounced off the stone wall opposite.

“ _Cheryl_?” asked an incredulous Veronica. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, isn’t this meeting about Pollikins and Jay-Jay’s baby?” she asked, innocently. She batted her eyelashes and primly sat on the edge of a desk, crossing her legs and showcasing them off as she fidgeted with the hem of her Slytherin skirt.

Betty eyed the redhead speculatively but then sighed. “Polly’s convinced herself that no one wants her baby. Besides, of course, the child-snatching Blossom monsters.”

She then realized what she said, and cut a glance at Cheryl. “No offense, Cheryl.”

She smiled toothily back. “None taken.”

Kevin frowned, glancing back and forth between Betty and Cheryl. “So your—” he pointed at Betty, “—mom and dad want Polly but not the baby, and the Blossoms—” he tilted his head at Cheryl, “—want the baby and not Polly.”

Jughead sighed from the far end of the room, near the windows. The sun slanted in behind him, shadowing his face. “That’s a true Gordian knot.”

“It’s an impossible situation,” sighed Betty, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

“Betty, come on,” said Veronica, leaning across Kevin to touch her friends’ shoulder. “This is merely an annoying situation. But luckily, I’ve been percolating on an idea, hellishly simple in its conception. What if my mom and I were to host a baby shower?”

Cheryl perked up, sitting straighter and tossing her shoulders back. “Count me in!”

Veronica nodded and turned back to the blonde. “You want Polly to feel loved and supported, right?”

“Yeah, but ideally by her own parents,” said Betty, with only a hint of bitterness.

Veronica still caught it. “Okay, so, baby steps, B. Get Polly and your parents in the same room in a public setting where they can’t fight – magic is prohibited –, and, voila, let the healing begin!”

“So, somewhere Muggle?” prompted Archie, just as Jughead, from his end of the room, asked, “Am I expected to come to this thing?”

Veronica gave Archie a _look_. _“_ Yes, Archiekins, somewhere Muggle.” She then turned the look on Jughead. “And of course, Jughead! You’re Betty’s boyfriend, so—”

At the word, both Betty and Jughead tensed, and Kevin shot a quick glance at Veronica in confusion. She shared it, then raised her eyebrows. “Merlin, you guys, relax. It’s just a word that starts with the letter ‘B.’ Anyway – Betty, what do you say?”

“ _Elizabeth Cooper_.”

The group jumped in surprise, turning as one to face the Black and Gold entrance in surprise. Betty slowly stood. “Mom?”

Alice Cooper furiously stood, with Professor Adams, the Black and Gold sponsor and Literature professor, hovering awkwardly behind her. A single red-tipped nail pointed at her daughter, which then swung to Veronica. “I need you and you. Right now.”

“Ladies,” he said, clearing his throat. “Shall we use my office? It’s just down the hall.”

Betty and Veronica stood, glancing at each other, but then followed Alice out and room and down the hall, just barely three doors.

Once inside the classroom, Professor Adams dithered by his desk, wondering if he should go or not. Betty and Veronica sat themselves in Betty and Jughead’s usual seats, and Alice stared hard at him until finally, he decided to go, shutting the door behind him. After he left the room, she flicked her wand out and cast a Silencing Charm on the door and walls, and then turned to face the two girls, who turned in their seats to face the door.

“Auror Keller told your father and I _everything_ ,” began Alice, her voice low as she crossed her arms. “How you’re hiding Polly at the Pembroke.”

Veronica swore in Spanish under her breath.

Betty wasn’t going to feel an ounce of regret. “Better than in an insane asylum.”

Veronica squirmed at her friends’ tone and interrupted, “Actually, Mrs. Cooper, that’s on me. I was the one who suggested that Polly stay with us.”

“She’s trying to help,” added Betty, staring hard at her mother. “Unlike you and Dad, who want Polly to give the baby up for adoption.”

Alice sighed and moved a few steps forward, and Betty could see how tired her mother looked. “Betty, it’s what’s best for Polly and the baby.”

Betty shook her head and slid from the desk, standing beside it. “Mom, that’s not your choice. Your choice is whether or not you want to be a part of Polly’s life. Veronica and her mom have offered to host a baby shower.”

Alice’s jaw dropped and it worked a few times while she struggled to find the right words, eventually sputtering out, “Well, that is hardly appropriate!”

Betty raised her eyebrow in response. “Really? Because I think it’s an amazing idea. You want to be loving and supportive like a normal grandmother? Then, great!” she stared hard, then, watching her mother’s lips tighten. “Otherwise, _stay away_.”

Without glancing at her friend, Betty murmured, “C’mon V,” and obediently, Veronica, sensing the tension between mother and daughter, quietly rose from the seat and followed her blonde friend from the room, eyes on Alice who stood shock-still in the empty classroom until Veronica let the door close behind her.

Outside, Professor Adams was leaning against the wall outside the classroom and kept his eyes on the ceiling. They peered down at the two Hufflepuffs in curiosity. “All done, ladies?”

Betty smiled brightly at her professor, nodding, a hand in Veronica’s as she led her dorm mate and friend away from both the classroom and Black and Gold office.

“Where are we going?” asked Veronica, allowing herself to follow behind her friend.

“Anywhere else,” replied Betty. “I can’t – _Merlin_ – my mother.”

Veronica yanked gently on Betty’s arm to pull her to a stop and swung her around to face her.

“Hey,” the other girl said, eyes searching her friends’ face, although Betty kept her face turned away. “Hey, B – don’t do this. So your mom is a bit nuts – well, my dad’s in jail. No one’s parents are perfect.”

Betty let out a tiny huff of a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Uh huh,” continued Veronica. “What however insane Mrs. Cooper is, you know that she cares about you and Polly. She’s just... very misguided in _how_.”

Betty sighed. “Yeah, I know.

She closed her eyes and fought back a wave of tiredness. It felt like she was hurtling forward, a fast-moving spell shot from a wand with no direction or intended location – just forward, constantly catapulted into the unknown. Since her return from the States, she had been sucked into one confusion mess after another – first, Polly’s disappearance, then Jason’s murder, and then Archie and Professor Grundy. While Jughead was a very bright spot in the tensions between her and her parents, as well as the underlying tension and distance growing between her and Archie whenever they were around one another (which was rare in itself), Betty rarely felt calm.

Veronica’s hand landed on her shoulder and she gently squeezed.

“Do you want some time to yourself, B?” she asked quietly. “I can field the boys from you for awhile.”

Betty opened her eyes and nodded. “Would you mind, V?”

“Not at all,” replied Veronica, and betty noticed the shadows in her friends’ eyes too. Her heart sank.

 _I am such a bad friend,_ she thought, and impulsively, she reached forward and hugged the startled girl.

Veronica emitted a startled laugh. “What’s this for?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you,” she replied instead, her chin on her friends’ shoulder. She felt Veronica reach up and wrap her arms around Betty’s taller form.

“Bitch fest tonight?” she offered in lieu of answering Betty’s admission, as well as a tactfully handled segue that removed any guilt on Betty’s part.

Betty stepped back, releasing Veronica, and grinned. “Count on it.”

Veronica grinned back too, and then stepped back a few more steps. “Well, you best go off somewhere, then, B. I need to go distract Archie – easily done – but Kev and Jughead might be a bit harder to dissuade.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage spectacularly,” replied Betty, walking away and down the hall. Eventually, she found herself outside of Professor Flitwick’s office.

While not a Ravenclaw, Betty had the full run of Flitwick’s office for her NEWT project, and often used the office as study-space when her research often led to explosions or misfired spells – doing so in the library would have her banned, and she was _not_ going to risk Madam Pince’s ire.

Flitwick was teaching, so Betty slipped into the room to her usual spot – a desk by a window overlooking a courtyard – and dumped her school bag on top of the grainy wooden surface. She reached in and pulled out another smaller bag, this one silk, and put it to the side. Her wand then rested next to it, as well as an Advanced charm text that Flitwick recommended to her, and another text, on Runes, that Vector had suggested.

If Betty couldn’t immediately fix the problems in her life – then she could at least work her way through the problems in her NEWT project, and apply the notes she took the other night to her mirrors.

The magic was there – Betty had previously connected two mirrors to each other through a bastardization of the Protean Charm for her mirror and Kevin’s. However, the charm only allowed for two-way communication, and Betty wanted to make several more mirrors to connect to, and share them with her friends. The problem was that calling _one_ meant calling them _all_ – she needed to find a way that could single out individual mirrors.

 _After all,_ she thought with a wry twist to her mouth, _if I want to call Juggie for a late night talk, I certainly don’t want anyone else listening in to us. Or, Merlin forbid, listen to V if she can ever get Archie’s head out of his own ass long enough._

The solution was Muggle; have something like a phone number tied to each individual mirror where one dialled – or an equivalent – their desired person. Unfortunately, magic wasn’t made for that, currently. What Betty was doing was creating something new.

She pulled out her original mirror and the one she was going to eventually present Polly, if all went well. Her sister’s mirror was a tiny, peach seashell compact. Along the back of the mirror insert, Betty had already inscribed runes for stability – Eihwaz – and Ehwaz for companionship. The Protean Charm had been cast, and Betty knew that this mirror was connected to hers and Kevin’s.

Betty’s eyes moved between her notes and she flipped open the two texts that her professors gave her, and with a quill in hand, she began to make extensive notes, until her eyes dried and the words began to blur. The answer to her mirrors was right in front of her – she could _feel_ it – but –

“Miss Cooper?”

Betty yelped and scrambled back and away from the table, shaking it with the force of her push as she stood up straight and turned to face the interloper.

The diminutive charms professor stood a few feet away, eyeing her.

Betty took a deep breath and mumbled, “Sorry, Professor Flitwick.”

“That’s fine, that’s perfectly fine, my dear,” the small wizard chirped, although his eyes were shrewd as he took in her appearance and the books spread along the table. “Working on your project? We didn’t see you at lunch or dinner, Miss Cooper.”

 _Dinner?_ Betty stared at the man. “What?”

Flitwick used his wand to levitate himself up towards his desk and chair, perching himself higher than normal with a collection of cushions. He then turned his head to pointedly look out the window. “It’s evening, Miss Cooper.” He peered at her. “What time did you think it was?”

Betty blinked and stared around the room in a dazed fashion, shock registering across her face as she realized how _dark_ it was. She had entered the room shortly after lunch, and now it was past dinner? Had she been taking notes, so caught up in her research, for over _five hours_?

Her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud grumble at the thought. She flushed.

Flitwick chortled from his desk. “I always wondered why you weren’t in Ravenclaw with your studious tendencies, Miss Cooper.”

Betty slowly sat back down. “The Hat did say that I embody a lot of the other Houses’ traits, sir.”

“Hmmm,” was his reply. “How goes your research?”

Betty resisted groaning. “Not so well. I’m stuck. The mirrors are all charmed to work with one another – I’ve already tested that – but I can’t get them to see each other individually. I feel like the answer is right in front of me, but...”

“Walk me through it,” suggested Flitwick, leaning across his desk to peer at her over his tiny glasses. “What do you have so far?”

“So far,” began Betty, “I have the Runes and spells in place. Strength and stability for the runes, on the mirror and the compact; the Protean Charm to link everything. Those work. But tying them together individually? I’m thinking I need a – a –” she faltered, a bit unsure to voice her thought.

“A what, Miss Cooper?” the professor prodded gently.

She looked up at him. “A token – a symbol or icon for each person connected. And... probably some of their blood.”

Betty looked uncomfortable at the admission. She knew that Blood magic generally wasn’t accepted by the British wizarding population, especially that most wizards who used blood magic tended to use it for darker spells, like necromancy. The Dark Lord Voldemort had used blood in his rituals and spells barely twenty years ago, and Betty knew that stigma was never going to go away.

However, her mother’s family spell work suggested many uses for blood – ranging from the darkest of dark (full control over another person) to the mundane (yielding healthier crops). What Betty was proposing with using blood wasn’t necessary dark magic – but it was certainly grey given it did not have to be willingly given. After all, she was going to tie a person’s blood, their magical signature, to the mirror, forever.

She hazarded a glance at the professor. The Charms professor was leaning back in his seat, his fingers steeped as he considered her thoughts and eyes locked on the ceiling. His mouth was frowning, but only because he was thinking hard.

Eventually, he said, “I think that’s doable, Miss Cooper.”

Betty’s elbow nearly slid off the table. “Professor?”

“Magic is mainly about intent, Miss Cooper,” began Professor Flitwick in his high, squeaky voice. However, there was nothing comical about the tone, which was serious. “Many of our kind would like to label magic as ‘good’ or ‘evil’ or ‘light and ‘dark’ but the truth is, spells are about _intent_ and desire. What would you like this spell to do? Oh, light the way? Well, then you think _lumos_ and want a light to appear at the end of your wand and it’s done.”

He nodded at her mirrors resting on the desk. “Tell me, Miss Cooper – in history you’ve already covered the last Blood Wars, have you not?”

Betty nodded. “Back in third year.”

“And what did you think about the Fidelius Charm?”

“Sir?” asked Betty, frowning. What did that spell have to do with her project or blood magic?

“Humour me, Miss Cooper.”

“Well, it protected the Potters,” she began, slowly, carefully. “The magic of the spell was to hide their location and the secret of their location unless told about it. It was contingent upon the Secret Keeper keeping the secret safe.”

“Where was that secret kept?” asked Professor Flitwick.

“ _Kept_ , sir?” repeated Betty, confused. She thought about it for a moment – _where does one physically hold a spell like that?_ “Um... within them, I guess.”

“Precisely, Miss Cooper,” said Flitwick, praising her with a smile. “The secret of the Fidelius is kept within the Secret Keeper.” His eyes peered at hers. _“In their soul_.”

Her breath caught, and Professor Flitwick continued, “Is that not considered dark – soul magic?”

“By definition, it should be,” muttered Betty, her thoughts swirling dangerously quick. “But they were protecting their family for security purposes, not for anything horrible.”

“Exactly, Miss Cooper,” said Flitwick, his moustache twitching, indicating a smile underneath. “Exactly – the intent was for protection and nothing dark. So, by that vein, is blood magic not the same?”

 _I guess so,_ she thought, and then blushed furiously as she remembered what she did to Chuck, the spell she cast on him. Was that not dark, in nature? Because she was attempting to use it to make him confess his secrets, to be more open to her suggestions? It was for a good reason – to stop the rumours that went around Hogwarts but also to stop him and his friends from taking advantage of any future girls due to their Oaths – but her method was poorly chosen.

“Magic is not defined as _good_ or _evil_ , Miss Cooper,” said Flitwick gently, “But rather what we do with it, just like there are those of us who are good but do bad deeds, and just like there are those who are bad but can do good. Nothing is ever as simple as it appears.”

Betty quietly thanked the professor, gathering her material and books, shoving them back into her bag before leaving.

She had a lot to think about.

*

Betty was admiring her bright turquoise nails when she and Veronica arrived at the Three Broomsticks, settling into a booth. They had spent the previous night in the Hufflepuff dorm, just the two of them after a mirror-call to Kevin (which extended to Archie and Jughead) that Betty was fine, but they were citing their dorm was ‘off limits.’

Veronica had painted Betty’s nails, and she had done the same, and then Veronica had plaited strands of Betty’s hair from her forehead back and down her loose-flowing locks for the following day. Between giggles and catching up with Betty and Jughead’s kisses, Veronica explained to her friend about her mother and Fred Andrews, as well as Archie’s self-implosion regarding having both her _and_ Val be his singing partner for the Halloween Ball.

Veronica was _still_ bemoaning it as they waited for her mother and Polly in the dining area of the pub. “—Of course, now Archie has _no one_. Val quit on Josie to work with Archie as a duo, and then when he screwed both of us over, she realized she had nowhere to go unless she wanted to pursue a solo career and _I_ ended up going to Josie.”

“Are you a Pussycat now?” asked Betty, barely glancing over the menu she knew by heart.

Veronica delicately shrugged. “As good as; I’ll be attending practices with them on before Dragons’ practice, but since Josie and Cheryl are best friends, I think I can get away with adding things to my plate.”

“But you’re doing this because you _want_ to, right?” frowned Betty. “Not because you’re trying to get back at Archie for being stupid?”

Veronica waved an airy hand. “Archie’s not even a thought in my mind.”

 _Right_ , thought Betty with a mental eye roll, but she was saved from speaking when Polly slid into the seat next to her and Hermione across.

“I am _starving_!” was Polly’s opening remark to her sister and sister’s friend. “I could eat a whole hippogriff!”

Betty eyed her and her still-slim figure. The bulge was noticeable now, a gentle swell under the shirt Polly wore, but only when her robes were open. Had she been in her Ravenclaw uniform, it would’ve been far more obvious she was pregnant.

“Ronnie, Betty,” greeted Hermione, shrugging out of her over robes to reveal a silk and lace dress underneath. Betty instantly knew where Veronica got her ‘street’ fashion from, as Hermione Lodge looked coolly and effortlessly _chic_.

They ordered and Hermione opened the conversation. “I have to say, I don’t remember Hogwarts being so lenient back when I attended. It’s a Wednesday night and you’re sneaking out to meet me for dinner.”

Veronica gave a tiny shrug. “I think it’s charming and wonderful. I can visit you whenever I want now – unlike Durmstrang which is in the middle of nowhere, and Beauxbatons which kept us too busy to even think about visiting Paris.”

Hermione hummed under her breath, just as Madam Rosmerta floated over their drinks and bar orders. Polly dug into her meal with gusto, picking off her French fries quickly while Betty picked at her salad, more content to watch her sister than pay attention to the Lodge women make mundane conversation. At least, until –

“A baby shower? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Hermione, censure her in voice obvious as she glanced at Polly.

Betty’s sister was nodding, clearly having followed the conversation Betty was not paying attention to. “Yes, thank you for the idea Veronica, but...” she shrugged. “You know, my parents...”

“It is!” protested Veronica. “It’s a great idea. Besides, Betty and I already started planning it.”

Polly turned in the booth. “You have? Really? Have you heard from Mom? Is she coming?”

Betty glanced away towards Veronica, who hid her grimace. Since the other day when Alice Cooper showed up at the Black and Gold office, Betty had not spoken to her mother nor replied to the ten owls the Cooper matriarch had sent her throughout the day.

“She’s invited,” said Veronica shortly, knowing the tension between the two Cooper women.

Betty added, “Hey, it doesn’t matter. If Mom doesn’t want to come, that’s on her. It’s her loss. In any case, we’ll get her there somehow.”

Polly’s eyes watered and her lips trembled. “But I do not want to fight with her.”

 _Merlin, I forgot about her hormones,_ thought Betty, but she plastered her fake smile on her face and reached over to put her hand on her sister’s, which rested on the tabletop. “You won’t. The entire Cooper family will support you on this, Polly.”

A mulish pout settled on her sister’s rosy lips. “I want the Blossoms there.”

Veronica, Betty, and Hermione shared glances.

“Cheryl, sure, yeah, she’s on the guest list,” said Betty quickly, watching as her sister’s eyes darkened and how her fork – for her salad – began to tremble on the table.

“Cheryl—” broke in an incredulous Hermione.

Polly spoke over her, continuing, “And Mrs. Blossom.”

Even Betty had to stare at her sister in surprise. “Pol, she tried to declare you an unfit mother. Remember? There were mutterings from the Blossoms about you being tied to the potions that Jason was trying to sell and that _you_ got him involved in it because of—” Betty winced “—mental instability.”

“Well, then this shower is the perfect opportunity for me to prove to her that I’m not,” argued back Polly with a firm tone of voice as she met everyone’s eyes at the table. “Besides, I’ve decided I want you to be the baby’s godmother.”

“What?” Betty’s mouth dropped open and Veronica excitedly gasped, bringing her hands to her throat as she clasped at her pearl necklace in surprise. “Really? Me? Oh, Merlin!”

Polly turned to face her sister and Betty mimicked her in the booth, in their own world as the two golden-haired Cooper girls hugged tightly. Polly then breathed into Betty’s ear, “If anything would ever happen to me, the only person I’d trust to take care of my baby is you.”

Tears welled in Betty’s eyes and she found it hard to gasp out, “Polly!”

The flush of happiness drowned out the impending worry of responsibility – of more responsibility – piled on her, and Betty shoved all the darker thoughts aside as Veronica began gushing about colour schemes and Hermione begrudgingly offered up the suite they had on the second floor of the Pembroke as the venue location (a Muggle location was decided as too difficult to get to).

And within moments, the four were chatting, and the date – for that Friday – was set.

The night wore on and three teenagers spoke of anything and everything between them, including Veronica asking Polly all sorts of questions about Ravenclaw and Jason in ways that Betty thought were terribly obvious. Hermione eventually excused herself, citing a previous engagement, which made Veronica’s eyes darken and her questions falter, but Betty chimed in with a question, and the diversion worked.

Eventually, Veronica begged off, and went upstairs to her room when not in Hogwarts, leaving Polly and Betty alone in the booth.

“How are you really doing?” Polly finally asked in a hushed voice, although the pub was boisterous and loud.

“Me?” Betty gave a tiny laugh. “Who cares about me – what about _you_?”

Polly grasped Betty’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so much better now that I’m staying with Mrs. Lodge – Hermione. But you, you’re still at home with mom and dad when you’re not at Hogwarts.”

“I can handle it,” said Betty firmly, eyes down.

Polly snorted. “If you think that I don’t know or remember what it’s like being a Cooper, pull the other one, Betty.”

Betty sighed, eyes on her hands under the table. Instead, she reached to her side, her discarded purse, and pulled out the seashell compact she had made for her sister, missing one last part.

“What’s this?” asked Polly, touching the pretty exterior.

“Remember that mirror I made for Kev last year?” asked Betty instead, leading into the topic.

“Yes?”

“This is yours,” she said, pushing it across the table to Polly. “I’m just missing one last thing to make it work.”

“What’s that?” her sister asked, looking at the compact and picking it up as she turned it over in her hands. She clicked it open and immediately checked herself out in the reflective surface, making faces.

“I need your blood to activate it,” rushed out Betty, nervously. “Professor Flitwick and I discussed it, and the only way to have your mirror connect to mine without calling everyone’s at the same time – which is just Kev right now,” she added hurriedly at the face Polly made, “well... I need something that uniquely tied to you.”

“My blood,” sighed Polly.

Betty nodded.

Polly eyed the small compact thoughtfully; then she spoke, quietly. “If only Jason and I had something like this. I should have asked you, before you left for your internship, Betty. I knew you had made that mirror for Kevin and it worked, and I could’ve used for one for Jason and I. It would’ve solved so much...”

Betty bit back anything she could have possibly said in that moment, hearing the pain in her sister’s voice. Instead, she scooted across the bench a bit more and wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and tilted her head until it rested on Polly’s shoulder.

“Yes,” breathed the elder Cooper. “Yes, however much blood you need, take it. Take whatever it is you need to make this work. I don’t want to ever be in this situation again.”

Betty nodded silently, bringing her hand up to hastily wipe at her watery eyes. While Betty took out her compact, Polly took the knife Betty did not use and made a small cut on her thumb. With a guiding hand, Betty had Polly smear both her compact and Betty’s mirror, and as she did so, Betty murmured, “ _ligatum in sanguine_ ,” thinking as hard as she possibly could at the connection she and Polly shared.

She thought about her earliest memory of Polly – slipping into her bed and turning on her nightlight – to other key moments of her sister over the years: the pride Betty felt knowing that Polly was a Ravenclaw; when Polly became a Hogwarts’ Dragon; her OWL scores. The worry she felt when Polly was gone that past summer; the concern she felt when she heard Polly and Jason were dating. She thought warm thoughts of snowball fights by the Quidditch pitch, and Yule mornings making faces at one another behind their grandfather’s back at the Selwyn manor.

When Betty looked at her mirror and Polly’s, her eyes widened. On the bottom of her mirror was a new, small shape burnt into the frame, one that matched the embossed plastic on Polly’s: a bird.

“You did it,” said Polly, eyes wide and bright.

“I did,” agreed Betty, equally stunned, breathless with happiness and surprise.

“Are you making one for all of your friends?” asked Polly, running her fingers absently over the seashell design.

Betty nodded.

“And I guess everyone will have a different symbol?” continued Polly, glancing slyly at her sister. “Will Archie’s be a heart?”

“What?” Betty stared at her sister, and Polly’s sly face changed to surprise.

“What?” she echoed. “Aren’t you still pining after our ginger neighbour?”

Betty shook her head. “I told him how I felt and... he didn’t feel the same.”

“Oh,” said Polly, eyes wide and very round. She brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Betty. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” replied Betty. “Honestly, Pol, it’s okay. It would’ve been a disaster if we got together. I had a crush on the idea of us – not who we actually are. Besides...” she blushed heavily. “I’m kind of seeing someone?”

“Is that a question or statement?” asked a wry Polly. “And tell me who!”

“Jughead,” admitted Betty.

Polly blinked. “ _Jughead_? Your other best friend?” she sat back in the booth. “Wow. I did... kind of see that coming.”

“What do you mean?” asked Betty, suddenly defensive.

Polly scoffed. “Only that he was totally in love with you for years. Most of my year spoke about it on and off – or, at least, I heard Jason mention it before. The Slytherins talk but they can be loyal to each other.”

“Talk?” prompted Betty cautiously.

“Yeah,” said Polly, warming to the idea to share something about her boyfriend. “Especially after we got together. I know Chuck Clayton was always picking on Jughead in the common room, but once Jason and I started dating, he put a stop to it – I guess because we’re sisters? Or he knew that you two were friends? Or...” her eyes glanced at her sister, “Or because he saw the looks Jughead sent you.”

“Jughead didn’t send me looks,” protested Betty, but inwardly she was numb. Hadn’t Reggie said something similar? And there were those looks Veronica had picked up on?

Polly raised her eyebrows. “Mmhmm,” she hummed. “Anyway – as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“I am,” replied Betty, thinking of her patronus in the wake of their kiss and the warm feeling she still got thinking of it.

“Good,” finished Polly, easing out from the booth to stand and head up for bed, “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do – and when you _do_ do something I would do, make sure you take your potion,” Betty flushed furiously at the comment, and Polly finished her sentence with a wicked grin directed at her sister and a finger pointed at her belly, “Or else you’ll really end up like me.”

*

With the promise of Lodge catering, neither Betty nor Veronica remained in the Great Hall at Hogwarts that Friday before the baby shower, opting instead to meet with Jughead at the Three Broomsticks.

He was already in a booth, idly playing with the straw of his strawberry milkshake, when Veronica and Betty arrived, Betty sliding in next to him and giving him a quick buss to the cheek that made him blush. However, as she drew away, she spotted his frown and the telling signs of troubled sleep of bags under his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she immediately asked, aborting her hands’ desire to touch his cheek.

His gaze flitted to Veronica, but her face was twisted into worry as well. “I can go, if you want me to.”

He sighed and shook his head. “No, it’s fine – it’s just –” He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He turned to Betty instead. “You know how I said I was going to help Mr. Andrews with his crew this week?”

Betty nodded.

“What are you working on?” asked Veronica, interrupting.

Jughead made a face. “Tearing up the Twilight. And we can’t use large demolishing spells because apparently taking apart buildings is a delicate art, so it’s a lot of manual progression of working our magic against sledgehammers and directing wheelbarrows and stacking mortar.”

“Oh, Juggie, I’m sorry,” said Betty, knowing how much the Twilight had meant to him.

He shrugged. “Well, yesterday we finished up pretty late,” he continued, “and Moose forgot his helmet out where we were digging. So while the rest of us were inside the trailer, Moose went out to get it.”

Veronica and Betty shared a confused look, but both dutifully turned back to Jughead.

“Moose was taking too long so Archie and I finally went out to see what was keeping him. Then we heard a loud noise and everyone raced out to investigate,” said Jughead, his voice low.

Veronica leaned forward to strain to hear him.

“Moose had his wand out in front of him, blasting away with _confringo_ and _bombarda maxima_ , sending cement and wood shrapnel everywhere,” said Jughead, and both witches gasped. Jughead caught her eyes. “Yeah, _Moose_ , right? The same kid who might be built like a dragon but is as smart as a mountain troll.”

He sighed.

“Anyway, it took about five of us to knock him to the ground and take his wand, and when Auror Keller finally showed up, he was able to tell right away that Moose had been Imperiused,” finished Jughead.

Veronica slid back in her seat, eyes wide in disbelief.

Betty paled. “ _Imperius_? Like – one of the Unforgiveables?”

“Poor Moose. Is he okay?” asked Veronica through bloodless lips.

Jughead gave a tiny shrug. “His name is Moose. He... should be fine. Physically at least. Keller took him to St. Mungo’s and he’s back in school now, but no one knows who put him under the curse. We were all inside at the time.”

The three fell silent, each contemplating what that could mean for not only Andrews Construction and Moose – but also Hogsmeade. The last time an Unforgiveable had been cast, it had been during the Wars, in 1998 – before they were all even born.

While they sat in silence, waiting for food none were too hungry to eat, Archie bounded into the Three Broomsticks, stopping just inside the door while his eyes adjusted to the low light. When he spotted the three, he strode over, his movements angry and purposeful.

Veronica opened her mouth to say hello, but Archie spoke right over her.

“Dude, what the hell?” he began, looking directly at Jughead, who sat up in confusion. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Bristling, Veronica intervened. “Archie, Jughead just told us what happened yesterday.” Her voice changed from saccharine to sardonic in an instant. “Though I checked out at the words ‘construction’ and ‘site.’”

Archie’s eyes flicked over to Veronica, apologetically, but he kept his body facing his oldest friend. “Moose and I are going to the south side of Hogsmeade to find those Serpents. You in?”

“What?” blurted Jughead, staring at Archie, just as Betty turned to him and said, “Whoa! Hey, you didn’t say it was the Serpents who put Moose under the Imperius.”

He turned to look at his – girlfriend? Betty knew they needed to have that conversation soon – and stuttered, “‘Cause we don’t know that for a fact.”

Archie angrily huffed. “Well, it’s still worth a shot if it might help my dad. Kevin’s boyfriend can get us in.”

“ _Joaquin_?” mouthed Veronica, glancing at Betty. The blonde in question shrugged her shoulders – they hadn’t said a thing about Kevin and Joaquin to anyone since the Serpent had given them their bottle of Polyjuice.

“Get you in where?” asked Veronica instead, narrowing her eyes.

Jughead was suspiciously quiet, Betty noticed, her eyes on him as he avoided everyone’s eyes by looking at the tabletop.

Archie finally turned to her. “To some bar where the Serpents hang out. If Moose spots them, we’ll owl Auror Keller and get these goons arrested.”

Jughead finally looked up, his tone serious when he spoke. “Archie, the Serpents are dangerous.”

“They’re potions-dealers,” broke in Veronica.

Jughead frowned and turned to her. “What? Says who?”

Betty bit her lip and touched Jughead on his knee. He swung his head around to her. “Polly. Remember? Trev told us that Jason was dealing in illegal potions? It was for the Serpents. She confirmed it because she knew about it, too.”

Jughead’s frown deepened into a scowl.

Archie jumped in, “You heard my Dad, Jughead. Clifford Blossom is trying to drive dad's broomstick into the ground. Auror Keller basically blew him off, right in front of us. Somebody needs to do something.”

Betty saw Jughead swallow thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Archie, going into that bar is a bad idea.”

Archie stared hard at his friend, and the two Hufflepuffs let their heads swing back and forth between the two. “Jughead, are you coming with me or not?”

Jughead sat silently, his face stony.

Archie’s own fell into a sullen mask. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Arch – that’s not fair –!” protested Jughead as they watched Archie stride back out of the Broomsticks. They could see Kevin and Moose waiting for him outside through the dirty and small windows, their hands shoved deep in their jacket pockets, which barely covered their Hogwarts uniforms.

Veronica sighed. “Well, it was a bit much to ask him to keep a level head. On theirs be it.”

Betty bit her lip and turned to Jughead. “The Serpents aren’t going to... _hurt_ them, will they?”

Jughead scowled. “How should I know? And if they did, those idiots deserve it, going rushing in like they are to the Whyte Wyrm.”

“You do seem to know a bit about the Serpents,” pointed out Veronica, eyeing him.

“Since you don’t know,” began Jughead, his voice heavily tinted with a bitter loftiness, “I live on the south side of Hogsmeade when I’m not in Hogwarts, a spell’s distance from the Wyrm.”

“So it’s experience talking?” continued Veronica.

Jughead gave a tiny shrug. “I guess?” He then deliberately lounged back in the booth and spread his arms across the top of the back, one coming to rest along Betty’s shoulders. “What time does this party for Polly start, anyway? Will there be more food?”

 _He’s hiding something again_ , she thought, recognizing the tone and deflection from when she brought the Oath up to him.

Veronica either bought the deflection or allowed it, and soon they left and headed for the Lodge's temporary residence. Veronica was using her wand to inflate balloons while her mother levitated them and stuck them to the ceiling with a sticking charm; Betty, meanwhile, was organizing the food a house elf was making in the kitchen, arranging it all on platters while Jughead helped ‘taste test’ as well as levitate the platters out to the living area.

“You’re sweet to be here,” she began, leading him from the kitchen out while he eyed the three-tier tea tray filled with petite fours – with either longing or disgust at their size – and held the tray at arms’ length. “I know this isn’t exactly your scene, and especially after earlier with Archie...”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “What? Organizing a baby shower? It’s totally on my bucket list.”

Betty grinned and her stomach quivered. He was adorable, dressing a bit nicer in his Hogwarts trousers and Slytherin cardigan, but he had rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Although his entire right forearm was covered with cracked brown leather from his wand holster, Betty thought he looked gorgeous.

“What?” he asked, eyeing her.

She stepped forward and reached out and felt the collar of his button-up shirt under his cardigan, feeling the starched edges. Her eyes softened and she heard his breath hitch as she leaned close, brushing her lips against his.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Betty, look! Mom’s here!”

Polly’s voice washed over her like a cold shower, and Betty pulled back slowly, letting her lips linger on Jughead’s. Her eyes opened slowly, and she nearly gasped at the intensely deep indigo his eyes had turned. They were staring down at her darkly, with a promise of something held in them.

They stood still together a moment longer, before Betty physically wrenched herself from him and towards Polly, who was hugging their mother tightly. A few other guests had appeared behind Alice, including Val and Melody, each bringing a pastel-coloured present.

As Betty drifted closer to her sister and mother, she could hear their whispered conversation.

 “I’m so glad you’re here, and you’re safe; you _and_ the baby.”

“Oh, _Mom_.”

The moment was ruined however, when Cheryl strode in through the open door with her mother and grandmother. She was pushing a large pram while Penelope Blossom was pushing the elder Blossom in her wheelchair, a house elf mutely following them.

“We’re here! No big deal, it’s only the best stroller money can buy,” announced Cheryl and the room fell silent.

“So... expensive,” finally said Polly, eyeing the bedazzled gold-coloured ( _or was it real gold_? wondered Betty) stroller.

Cheryl grinned at Polly, her lips a bright red to match her hair. “All I ask in return is that you make me your baby’s godmother.”

Betty cleared her throat and Cheryl sent her a death glare.

“Kidding!” she chirped, but then the smile dropped. “So not kidding.” She turned to her grandmother and took the handles of the wheelchair from her mother, who primly sat on an armchair across from where Polly would sit in the living area. “Come on, Nana Rose, let’s get you a good spot by the food. Dewey, _come_.”

Soon, everyone sat in the middle of the living area. Polly was the center of attention, with Alice next to her daughter, and Betty beside her mother. On Polly’s other side was Penelope Blossom and Cheryl, as well as Nana Rose, her grandmother, in a space created for her wheelchair. Next to Betty was Veronica and then her mother, and then around the room on couches or the floor were Val, Melody, Wendy, as well as Tina and Ginger. Jughead hovered awkwardly near the back of the room, by the buffet table, trying to be as small as possible in the very feminine room.

“Polly. Let me begin with an apology,” said Penelope, reaching forward and patting Polly’s hands which sat clasped on her lap. “When I first heard about the baby, my initial instinct, to embrace the baby but not you was wrong. I hope you can forgive me.”

Betty glanced at her mother, who was glaring daggers at the redhead. She leaned forward and murmured, under her breath into her mother’s ears, “Think happy thoughts.”

Alice clenched her teeth, but turned her eyes elsewhere, as the presents began to be dispersed. Melody and Val had chipped in and presented Polly with a musical box of lullabies for the baby; Ginger and Tina presented some baby clothes, and everyone knew what Cheryl had given Polly.

Nana Rose gestured at her house elf with a shaking, liver-spotted hand. Polly took the small box the elf presented her and opened it, gasping.

She tipped it and a rose quartz stone pendent on a silver chain spilled into her hands.

“This necklace reads the baby’s aura. Predicts the sex,” said the older woman, eyes rheumy eyes focused with intensity on Polly.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and whispered loudly to Ginger – so everyone heard –, who was sitting close to her, “Nana has dementia and gypsy blood.”

Her mother sent her a dark look that she ignored.

Polly held the chain up and watched the stone swing back and forth.

“Oh!” gasped Nana Rose.

At the noise, Polly’s face morphed into alarm. “What? Is my baby okay?”

Nana Rose turned her eyes to Polly, her face beaming bright. “ _Babies_. It’s twins. One of each!”

Alice scoffed loudly. “This is occultism at its most ludicrous.” All the witches in the room gave her a look, especially given that they could all do magic, which prompted Alice to startle and add, “But I’m grateful to be here.”

“Oh! Thanks guys!” gushed Polly, her face wide as her hands ran over her bump. “Okay, now Mom’s.”

Alice summoned a peach coloured present and passed it to her daughter, with Polly tearing into it eagerly. Her mouth dropped open as the present was revealed. “It’s my nightlight. When I was a little kid.” All the witches in the room cooed in surprise and thoughtfulness. “How did you – where did you even—”

Alice offered Polly a tiny, sincere smile. “I saved it. I know how much you loved it and how it made you feel safe. And I wanted you to be able to pass it down to your own baby one day.”

Hermione leaned forward across both Veronica and Betty to say, “Alice, it’s lovely.”

The two women shared a momentary smile across the table, neither noticing the dark look Penelope sent them.

The other woman immediately drew the attention away. “Open ours next, dear. That is a family heirloom. Great-grandfather Blossom used to play with it.”

Polly did as instructed and revealed a wooden rocking horse.

Cheryl beamed. “Isn’t it magnificent? Oh, Polly, come stay with us at Thornhill.”

Penelope sent a wicked smile at Alice, who stiffened. “Cheryl’s invitation is genuine. Thornhill’s gates will always be open to you. The child would want for nothing. You would want for nothing.”

The digs were obvious, and Betty felt her mother’s magic crackle just before she shot to her feet, red-cheeked and staring hard at the redheaded woman. “Do you think that you can just waltz in here, with a bedbug-infested Trojan Horse, wave a blank check around and steal my daughter?”

Penelope gazed coolly at Alice, and the room went silent, the air turning frosty. “I didn’t think you wanted her, else why would she have been exiled like some pariah?”

Alice exhaled loudly. “To keep her away from your family.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, and not because you’re ashamed? Why is your own daughter not living with you?”

Alice floundered then, eyes darting around the room as she took in a mixture of shocked and embarrassed faces. Betty felt her heart clench and saw Jughead take a step forward and away from the food, his own eyes trained on her in concern.

“She’s not going to set foot in that twisted, poisonous house of yours!” Alice finally declared.

Cheryl stood. “She should be so lucky.”

Betty couldn’t let that go, and got to her feet too, ignoring Veronica who reached forward to tug her back down. “Cheryl, that’s not helping.”

Their mothers were still sniping at one another while the two Hogwarts students – one Hufflepuff and one Slytherin – glared at each other.

“She’d do a lot better there than with you!”

“How dare you?”

Polly finally shot to her feet, her hair puffing up and going wavy as her magic manifested itself. “Enough! Both of you!”

Alice ignored her daughter – as that was something she was good at – and tried to get the last word in. “If you believe one lie—”

Polly stamped her foot and shrieked, “ _This_ is why Jason is dead! Because of this hate. This pointless, stupid fighting.”

Alice’s mouth dropped open, and she reached forward for her eldest daughter while Betty watched on. “Honey...”

“No, don’t touch me!” snapped Polly, turning away and presenting her shoulder to her mother. “We were supposed to be together. And you didn’t let us have that, neither of you. And you know it cost Jason his life.”

The elder blonde stifled a sob and turned on her heel, rushing towards the bedroom she was staying in, Wendy quickly on her heels but not without shooting both Alice and Penelope a dark glare.

The room fell silent.

Finally, Hermione cleared her throat and said, “Well, I think that’s enough for today. Thank you all for coming. I’m sure Polly truly appreciated all of this and will be sending you her _thank you_ ’s shortly.”

At that cue, the party began to break up. Betty stood, rooted, staring at her sister’s shut bedroom door. Eventually, Jughead came up beside her and twined his fingers with hers, drawing her attention.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Betty blinked and looked around the room; it was empty – everyone had left, except her mother, who was studiously ignoring them by presenting her back and looking out a window towards the main street of Hogsmeade; even Veronica and Hermione were giving them space, on the other side of the room, taking notes of gifts and cards by a table.

“I –” Betty broke off. “I think so?”

Jughead’s lips twitched. “Good. Because if you weren’t, I found that a burger always makes me feel better. And I happen to know this place – maybe you’ve heard of it? – they serve some wicked good dragon burgers.”

Betty grinned up at him. “Thanks, Juggie.”

“Anytime, Betts,” he replied, and she moved off to help Veronica and Hermione with the presents. Hermione gave up her seat for Betty, and made her way to Alice. Betty heard the other woman mention a drink, and the two disappeared into the kitchen.

However, barely a few minutes later, the main door burst open and Archie strode in, just as angry as he had been earlier in the Three Broomsticks when he asked for help. Veronica and Betty stared at he went to Jughead, who was back at the food – but this time packing it up – only to get directly into Jughead’s face.

“You were protecting him. That’s why you didn’t tell me.”

Jughead glanced around the room, noticing only Betty and Veronica left. He turned his face away from them, but Betty noticed a flush spread across his cheeks. He mumbled, “Relax,” to his friend.

Intrigued by the tension, Veronica called out, “What happened?”

Archie turned to the two witches sitting at the table and asked, “Did you know that Jughead’s father is a Serpent?”

Veronica’s eyes widened and Betty said, “No.”

Archie continued, his eyes bright and voice strained. “That’s why he tried to stop me from going to the bar, so I wouldn’t find out. After everything my dad has done for you—”

A panicked look settled across Jughead’s face in that moment, and he bit out, quickly, “Archie. I can explain, okay?”

“But not right now,” snapped Veronica, bringing both wizards' attention back to her. She glared at them. “This is Polly’s day, so you two need to check yourselves. I mean it. She might be in her bedroom right now, but that won’t change anything. And if you think for one second my mom and Mrs. Cooper can’t hear you from the kitchen, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Jughead kept his eyes on his friend. “Archie—”

The redhead scowled. “No, save it.”

“Come on,” wheedled Jughead, calling after him as Archie turned and left the suite, slamming the door behind him, just as Alice and Hermione, with elf wine in delicate glasses, poked their heads around the corner from the kitchen into the living area.

“Everything alright?” called Hermione, her dark eyes taking in the three teens.

“Yes mom,” replied Veronica, going back to the presents.

Jughead sighed, muttered something about getting some air, and left the suite as well, leaving Betty staring after him in confusion.

 _Why would it matter about his dad?_ She wondered. _Did he think I would care? Because of Jason and Polly? What had Mr. Andrews done for Jug?_

She frowned. Jughead was keeping far too many secrets, and it was time for her to confront him on some of them, at least. She stood, intent to go after him, but Polly’s bedroom door creaked open and her head swung around to see Wendy step out, Polly behind her.

The two girls whispered something to one another and hugged, and then Wendy left, with Polly awkwardly standing by the bedroom door.

“Polly!” called Veronica, very loudly. “Come sit down and see all these lovely gifts. We should start right away on thank you cards so that they’re done.”

Polly obediently came over, sitting across from Veronica and next to Betty. Alice, hearing Veronica’s loud call, eased out of the kitchen and contritely sat across from her daughter on Veronica’s other side, eyes soft and pleading while Polly ignored her; but to be fair, Betty noticed her mother didn’t speak either.

After twenty minutes of veronica handing cream coloured envelopes and cards towards Polly, she announced, “I think I’m going to check in with my mom and see if we’re staying this weekend,” and so quickly left the room that Betty thought she Apparated.

Betty looked at her mother, glancing at her sister when Alice caught her eyes. “Mom,” she hissed, “You need to talk to her.”

Alice grimaced but cleared her throat. Polly looked at her. “Polly, I’m sorry. It’s just that woman –”

Polly glared at her mother. “Didn’t send me away. You did. And if you hadn’t, I would’ve met up with Jason, and he still might be alive.”

A stricken look overcame Alice. “Or you might’ve gotten killed – or worse!”

“I was alone there. In that place,” said Polly, her voice hard.

“I never wanted you to feel alone, or unwanted, or unloved,” argued Alice, passionately. “Honey, _come home_. I promise you you’ll never feel that way again.”

“You want me to come home?” asked Polly, her voice breaking. She looked stunned, as if she thought she would’ve had to argue her point forever.

Alice nodded. “More than anything, honey.”

Polly frowned. “Yeah, but what about Dad?”

“Your father Dad’s just going to have to get over it,” declared Alice.

“Are you sure he’s not just gonna try and make another appointment for me?” asked Polly cautiously, while Betty and Alice shared a confused look.

Alice tentatively offered, “What are you talking about? What appointment?”

Polly matched their confused look with one of her own. “Before you sent me away, Dad made an appointment for me to see a Healer. Said he would be more than happy to pay for it. That I shouldn’t have to live with my mistake.”

Betty looked at her mother, whose face was slowly travelling from a pale white into a furious red. “Merlin,” whispered Betty, eyes wide.

“He didn’t even ask me what I wanted,” continued Polly, unaware of the murderous thoughts Alice Cooper was currently entertaining.

“Excuse me, Polly, Elizabeth,” said Alice stiffly, standing from the chair. “Please thank Hermione for me, will you?”

She walked away from the living room and through the front door with all the poise of a queen, and then once the front door closed behind her, there was an incredibly loud _crack!_ that belayed Alice Cooper’s anger.

Betty and Polly shared a look.

“I think I’m going to head off too,” said Betty slowly. “I need to find Jug.”

Polly gave a tiny smile, one that was tumultuous at best as she fought her own wavering emotions. “I did see that kiss earlier. Very cute.”

“I’ll speak to you later tonight, okay?” said Betty, standing. “Keep the mirror close.”

Polly nodded, and then Betty was nonverbally as well as wandlessly summoning her jacket from where she dumped it upon arrival. She was out the door and down the stairs into the foyer of the Pembroke quickly, eyes searching for a familiar beanie. The ground floor was a brightly lit, reflecting off the cream marble floor. A fireplace for Floo travel was in the far corner, kitty-cornered near a tasteful dark wooden bar with matching red velvet stools, although the bar itself was unattended.

Near the fireplace, Jughead sat on a plush red couch, moodily staring at his hands.

“Juggie,” she said, catching his attention when she reached his side.

His head jerked up and a guarded wariness settled on him. “Betty.”

“I was half expecting a Butterbeer for you to drown your sorrows into,” she joked, but it fell flat.

He grimaced. “Here to tell me off?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m here to suggest that we talk to your dad, though. He might know something about Jason that Polly doesn’t.”

“It’s Friday night,” warned Jughead, glancing up. “He might not be home.”

She shrugged. “Then we’ll come back here and have that feel-better burger you promised me.” She paused. “In fact, I think we should do that anyway.”

The wary look on his face slowly disappeared and light appeared in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” echoed Betty, offering him a shy smile.

Jughead’s lips twisted into the familiar and comforting little smile that was all hers, and he slid from the booth, standing next to her. She held out her hand to him and let him make the decision. He glanced at it, then her face, and took it, twining their fingers together.

The walk from the Pembroke to the train station wasn’t very far, and they reached it just as the sun disappeared over the lowest mountain peak, bathing Hogsmeade in darkness. The street lamps’ flames burst into life – all at once. The bridge over the train tracks that led from Hogsmeade to the Sunnyside neighbourhood, an addition built once the land by the Lake had been built up, was barely lit.

There were less lights on that side of the tracks, but Jughead knew his way around and carefully led Betty through a winding path of ramshackle trailers and oddly-shaped buildings, some which reminded her of Mrs. Weasley’s Burrow.

Eventually, they reached a trailer with a fake garden gnome outside it. Betty looked at it and then Jughead, who shrugged. “My mom brought it. It’s some Muggle thing – not at all like the ones we used to fight with at the Burrow.”

He fished through his pockets and took out a key ring, inserting the key and turning the knob at once. Betty watched curiously. _Do they not use blood wards because his mother is non-magical?_

Jughead entered first, Betty behind. Her eyes trailed over the ratty brown couch tucked against a bay window, as well as the tall, gruff looking man who shot to his feet and away from the armchair he was sitting in, the moment they entered. He had the same hair colour and lanky body that Jughead possessed, but a darker, grim face and countenance that Jughead only had on his worst days, she noted.

“Jughead!” the man said, eyes darting from his son to her with open curiosity.

 _Had Jughead never brought a girl home before?_ She wondered, feeling rather proud and special at that.

Jughead curled in on himself and leaned against the kitchen wall, moving a hand back and forth with introductions. “Dad, Betty Cooper. Betty, this is my dad, FP.”

Betty stepped forward, offering a hand. “Hi, Mr. Jones, nice to meet you, officially.”

He stared at it strangely for a minute before taking it and giving her a gentle shake. “And you, and you. Um... Why don’t you guys sit down?” he began looking around and realized that the couch was covered in dirty laundry and the coffee table was littered in empty Odgen’s bottles and muggle beer cans. “If I'd known you were on the way – Merlin, that damned Owl – friggin’ useless. I forgot to open the window last night and the damn thing’s disappeared...”

Jughead cleared his throat. “This isn’t really a social call.”

FP stopped moving and frowned, finally slowly sitting back in his chair. “No. I didn’t expect it would be after Archie showed up at the bar.”

Betty sighed. She shared a look with Jughead, and he took the lead. “We know the Serpents had some kind of potion thing going on with Jason Blossom.”

FP stared at his son. “What? Where’d you hear that?”

“Jason’s girlfriend,” elaborated Jughead, and Betty added, “My sister.”

FP sighed loudly and rubbed the back of his neck, startling Betty into the realization that Jughead had quite a few similar tells that he shared with his father. “The kid needed some money to get away. A clean-cut kid like that, no one’s gonna suspect him of running, so we helped him, he helped us.”

Jughead leaned against the wall and groaned. “Merlin’s saggy balls, Dad. Did you tell the Aurors that?”

“What do you think?” challenged FP, a glint in his eyes that made Betty glance nervously between them.

“Well, they know now. Polly told them,” snapped back Jughead. “So if they haven’t been by yet, they will be.”

Feeling the rising tension, Betty licked her lips and stepped forward, gingerly, making FP’s dark gaze swing towards her. “Did you ever talk to Jason?”

The man’s face softened. “Personally? My guys gave him some product. When it wasn’t delivered, we figured he’d took off with our stash, until...”

“... Until Jason’s body was found in the Black Lake,” sighed Betty.

FP levelled a hard look at his son, asking, “Anything else you wanna ask?”

Jughead stared at his father a moment, and then asked, bluntly, “Did you have anything to do with Jason Blossom’s death?”

“Juggie!” gasped Betty, just as FP spoke, his voice laden with hurt. “You really think I could do that?”

Jughead ignored her. “It’s the dark ages, Dad. I don’t really know what to think anymore.”

There was something else going on between the two wizards that Betty was not privy to, and while her journalistic side was itching to know, she instead made herself stand still, as invisible as she could be without casting the disillusionment charm.

“I’m not a perfect father, Jughead, no getting around that, but I’m no killer,” declared FP, and Betty, in that moment, believed him. Her eyes darted to Jughead, who was staring at his father desperately, trying to hide a quiver in his lower lip.

FP sniffed loudly, bringing a hand up to rub at his nose roughly to disguise the sheen in his eyes, as he glanced around the dirty room and kitchen. “Son, listen to me. I’m gonna do what you want, get my act together. I’m gonna get your mom and Jellybean home so we’re all under the same roof. I promise.”

 _What?_ thought Betty, eyes wide. _Mrs. Jones and Jughead’s sister are gone?_ She then felt foolish, flushing as she realized how dirty the trailer was, and how much it lacked a feminine touch.

“But I I just need a little time to do that. Not a lot, not long, a month, two at the most,” continued FP, his eyes bright. His expression of delirious hope mixed with desperation matched the one on Jughead’s. “Hey. And then we’ll be back on track, all right? You—” his voice broke. “You believe that, don’t you?”

Jughead cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked at the beginning of his sentence. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I believe you, Dad.”

He rubbed roughly at his cheeks, and then, without checking, turned and yanked open the front door. Betty stared after him for a minute.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Jones,” she said to FP. “Excuse me.”

He just nodded, and she gently closed the door behind her. Jughead was only a few steps away, breathing heavily with his back to her, head tilted up and eyes shut.

A dog barked somewhere in the neighbourhood.

“Do you believe him?” she asked, touching his back gently.

He shuddered. “I do.” His head came down and his eyes opened and he asked her, “Do you?”

Betty held Jughead’s gaze and then said, “I believe _you_ , Jughead.”

He shuddered again, his eyes closed tightly. He took a few deep breaths and when his eyes opened, they blazed with an inner light.

The next thing she knew, his hands were on her – one cupping the back of her neck and the other around her waist, hauling her against him quickly. His mouth then descended upon her lips, head tilted as he deepened their kiss.

She felt like she was drowning, consumed by him so much so she forgot to breathe. She clutched at his shoulders – _they’re so broad_ , she thought wildly – and his tongue swept across the seam of her lips, begging for entrance.

She opened her mouth, grateful to suck in air, and then he was on her again, his tongue tasting her. She met him, her own tongue exploring and chasing his back into his mouth. The kiss was wet and raw, and she loved it.

Then he pulled away, slowly, letting his teeth catch on her lower lip and releasing it with an audible _pop_.

“Betty Cooper,” he murmured, the hand that was behind her neck coming up cup her cheek.

She smiled dreamily up at him. “Jughead Jones,” she returned.

They breathed in each other’s air, in silence, for a few moments before they drew back from one another. However, Betty looped her arm through his, and then began to walk back towards the main street of Hogsmeade, for that promised burger.

Still buzzing off the high from the kiss, Betty took the opportunity. “Jug – can I ask you something?”

He tensed. “Sure...”

She knew he thought she would ask about what she heard in the trailer, but she wanted to bring up something else. “The night I went with Trev to the Three Broomsticks, he gave me something.”

Jughead’s entire body was so stiff; she thought someone had hit him with a _Petrificus Totalus_. Betty clenched her free hand but forged forward.

“It was a list. _Reggie’s_ completed list,” she said, glancing at him. His face was pale and his eyes steadfastly forward. “And because I knew enough, Reggie was able to explain the Oaths to me – and well, the list itself was enough explanation, too.”

“Fuck,” he cursed lowly, bringing his free hand up to rub the back of his neck. He withdrew his arm from hers, and began to physically close himself off.

“Juggie,” she whispered, stopping.

He took a few more steps, and then stopped. “What, Betty?” his voice was low and defeated. “What do you want to say? Want to talk about how I’m going to lose my magic in a year? About how stupid I was, voluntarily taking the oath at eleven?”

“Why did you?” she asked.

He inhaled loudly. “Because I was eleven, and all Slytherins take it, and I wanted to fit in, in a place where I was all alone and without my friends. Where all the older students knew my name – knew _me_ – knew my dad – and thought I’d be just like them.”

He laughed bitterly. “Well, the joke’s on them! I’m just another fucked up Jones, that’s for sure. But I’m no Slytherin. I’m not even one of their darling Purebloods – just a halfblood with a dirty muggle mother.”

Betty stepped forward, affronted. “Jug – don’t _say_ that!”

He spun around, eyes dark. “And why not? It’s true. You’ve seen the list, Betty. You know what some of those tasks are! Do you really think _I_ can finish them all?” His eyes focused on her. “Do you see me finding some girl, asking her to give me a blowjob in the library? Or – Merlin – finding someone who would be okay with tempting fate by fucking on a professor’s desk?”

Betty flushed. She struggled to find her voice. “Is... is that why you kissed me? Because of the Oath? Because it was number thirty-two: ‘kiss someone from another House’?”

Jughead stared at her for a minute, incredulous. He then exploded. “ _What_? Fuck! No! Fuck – Betts, you thought that—?”

He stepped away from her, his face stricken.

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. “Then why did you kiss me?”

He swallowed and as she waited for an answer, she was sure he heard her heart beating furiously against her chest.

“Because I wanted to,” he finally said, voice low and gravelly. “For some time now. I just—" he gave a tiny hysterical laugh "—lacked the courage.”

“Did you like it?” she asked, taking a step closer, watching carefully if he would bolt.

“Yes,” he whispered, eyes on hers.

She took another step. “Do you want to kiss me now?”

His eyes dropped to her lips. “Yes,” he whispered again.

She took another step, nearly brushing up against him. He didn’t move. “Do you like spending time with me, Juggie?”

He nodded, eyes on hers again, but they were hooded and dark in the growing black of the evening.

She stepped forward the last bit, her entire front pressed against his.

He sharply inhaled in response, and she tilted her head back to look at him in the eyes, just as his head dipped down a bit.

“Do you know what each of the hundred items are on your list?” she asked.

He nodded shortly.

“I know what all the items are,” she said. “I have them memorized; they’re burned in my brain.”

Her hands came up and grasped at the front lapels of his jacket, grounding them both. He was breathing shallowly.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, and she whispered, “Do you imagine me when you think of number eighty-six?”

His eyes slammed shut, and she knew he was picturing her, because she was thinking it too: Jughead slamming her against the wooden beams of the Quidditch pitch, ravishing her mouth while his eager hands lifted her skirt and yanked her panties down, her breathless moan swallowed by the cheer of their housemates above them. They would be partially hidden, but at any time, their classmates could wander down from the stands and spot them, hidden underneath.

Jughead would lift her, his hands tightly gripped her bum, his mouth fused to hers before travelling hotly down her neck while she fumbled with his trouser zipper and button, reaching into his boxers and griping him tightly – enough that he would swear into her neck and buck.

He would mouth at her neck, leaving red marks she’d use a combination of makeup and magic to hide from Veronica and Kevin, but she’d leave the ones he’d make on her thighs.

Betty could see it clearly: Jughead sliding into her easily, a satisfied groan once he bottomed out and then another, as she clenched around him, a wordless beg to start moving – to fuck her under the Quidditch stands where anyone could see.

Item eighty-six on the list: _have sex during a Quidditch match, under the pitch_.

“I think of you,” she admitted, leaning forward and lightly kissing his chin.

His eyes popped open, and there was no blue to see at all, his pupils were blown so wide in the dark. “Betty,” he rumbled, his voice low as his body shook against hers, “Do you – do you know what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He closed his eyes again this time, but not in desperation to hold back his desire at the images her words presented; but in acceptance.

When he opened them again, he asked her, “Are you going back to Hogwarts tonight?”

She nodded. “But later. I need to speak to my mom and Polly again.”

He took a deep breath, and then another. “But you’ll be back? Later?”

“Probably very late, but,” she frowned. “I’ll sneak back in.”

“I’ll wait for you in the Shack,” he answered quickly. “Until you’re ready to leave. Send me your Patronus and I’ll come. We’ll go together. I don’t want you wandering around Hogsmeade by yourself.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“And Betts?” he added, looking down at her, taking very controlled deep breaths.

“Yes, Juggie?” she asked.

“Be very sure,” he said, eyeing her. “Because I care about you a lot – and I don’t want this to be a pity thing—”

“It’s not,” she interrupted. “It’s not at all. I don’t want you to lose your magic, Juggie – that’s definitely part of it – but this isn’t pity. Merlin, no! You’re... you’re gorgeous. And... I want you to be mine.”

“Yours?” his voice took on an amused tone.

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Didn’t V already say it? You’re my boyfriend?”

“Oh, _those_ silly labels,” he huffed, the smile betraying his thoughts. “Then I guess you’re mine, too.”

“I want to help, Jug,” she said, drawing back from him. They both needed to cool down. “I will always want to help – but at least, in this – we can help each other.”

“So you just want me for my body?” he teased. She smacked his arm with the back of her hand and he laughed.

“Shut it,” she muttered, grinning at him.

He slung an arm across her shoulders and drew her into him, and she wrapped her arm around his back. “C’mon you,” he muttered fondly into her hair, a smile on his lips. “Let’s start with helping Polly first, and then we’ll worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for the past while and a few more hours – or days – isn’t going to kill me.”

“We’re going to talk about it,” warned Betty, looking at him as they reached the bridge and began their walk into Hogsmeade. “We’re going to talk about the Oath and the list.”

He was silent for a moment or two, and then murmured, “Okay. Okay, Betty.”

“We’ve done a lot together, Jug,” said Betty, “And this is going to be no different. We’re in this – _together_.”

His lips twitched again, but he looked down at her and with eyes that sparkled in the flickering torchlight, agreed, “Together.”

*

Betty used the mirror to call Polly for the first time from her childhood bedroom in the Cooper residence, feeling the dried tears on her cheek crack as she spoke her sister’s name. “Polly,” she called, tapping the little bird symbol.

Polly answered, but the background was not her bedroom at the Pembroke.

“Pol? Where are you? What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” replied Polly immediately, eyes averted. “This mirror is wicked, Betty! Great job.”

“Polly...”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it?” snapped her sister.

Betty sighed. “Mom had no idea, Polly. Dad never told her. She swears it.” She sighed and glanced away, realizing that the house sounded so empty. “She kicked him out. I can’t believe it.”

Polly scoffed. “They’re always fighting. Give it a few days.”

Betty shook her head. “She meant what she said. She wants you and the baby, or babies, to feel safe. Which means You can come home now.”

Polly leveled a look at her sister so raw that Betty felt a shiver travel from her head to her toes. And in that moment, Betty knew that Polly was not coming home.

Whatever she might have said, Betty had no idea; she barely remembered ending the mirror chat with her, putting the mirror down and then walking down the stairs into the living room, where her mother sat at the couch, leaning over the coffee table. Spread across it was an assortment of baby pictures and hand-drawn images in a shadowbox of Polly’s old things.

Alice glanced up at her when she entered, and Betty felt fresh tears well in her eyes at the watery green of her mother’s eyes and the pale, drawn face that dropped without Betty saying a thing.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” choked out Betty, emotions overwhelming her. Alice’s face crumpled and Betty rushed to sit next to her on the couch, pulling her into a hug. “I tried.”

*

_What makes a place feel like home? Is it warmth and familiarity? Is it love and acceptance? Or is it simple safety?_

_Or it’s none of those things._

_It’s a place where the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team is murdered._

_Maybe... it’s the torn-down movie theatre you spent all your time in, reliving other people’s hopes and dreams. Maybe it’s a dorm room you spend ten months of the year in, surrounded by people you don’t know and don’t like._

_Or maybe it’s just a forgotten room on the seventh floor, where it’s just you and whatever you require the space to be – just like an extra in a Wes Craven movie._

_Hope: A word so close to ‘home’, and just as tricky._

_As much as we wanted Jason’s killer caught, and Hogsmeade, our home, to feel safe again, with every day that passed, our hopes dimmed more and more. There’s that old, cliché saying, “It’s darkest before the dawn.”_

_But sometimes... there’s just darkness._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say "hi" on [tumblr!](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com) I'm back to regularly updating and browsing fandom news. Thanks, SDCC2017. You've given me so many treats!


	18. Cooper and Jones, Sleuths at Large

*

XVIII: Cooper and Jones, Sleuths at Large

*

 **Jack:** We are yet to determine the cause of death. Miss Fisher, I appreciate your curiosity for crime.

 **Phryne** : Well, every lady needs a hobby.

 **Jack** : But please...

 **Phryne** : Given the lack of bloodstains, I assume it wasn’t a violent death, unless, of course, it was strangulation. But the foetal position of the victim, although not terribly well executed, indicated a degree of pain rather than the flailing limbs one might associate with a struggle. And then, of course, there’s the fact that death occurred after breakfast, according to Mrs Andrews, which suggests something ingested? All while surmise, of course.

 **Jack** : Of course. Now...

 **Phryne** : Do you have a card? In case I need to call the police. Because I’m a woman alone, newly arrived in a dangerous town.

 **Jack** : I plan to make this town less dangerous, Miss Fisher. [ _He hands over a card_ ]

 **Phryne** : Good. I do like a man with a plan. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. [ _She looks him up and down before smiling and walking out_ ]

\-- “Cocaine Blues,” 1x01, _Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries_

*

Once her mother had fallen asleep, aided by her own emotional response to Polly’s decision to live with the Blossoms and a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, Betty sat on her bed in her childhood bedroom and wondered tiredly if she had enough positive emotion or thoughts to conjure her Patronus.

It felt like the weekend would never end; had Polly’s baby shower been a mere six hours ago? Had she not learned that Jughead’s father, FP, was a Serpent, a gang member, who may or may not have been responsible for Jason’s death, not more than three hours past?

With a heavy sigh, Betty glanced at her desk and the messy notes from her Charms and Ancient Runes NEWY project, now decisively proven possible through Polly’s mirror. She rose to collect the notes and organize them, to write again later in careful script for her professors. As she shifted some paper, she found the additional mirrors she had purchased that summer in New York; a very manly, small rectangular shaving mirror in black frame for Archie, and a simplistic but refined and working pocket watch with the top latch being a mirrored surface (which Betty had planned on giving to Jughead for his seventeenth birthday, in traditional wizard culture).

For Veronica, her newest friend, Betty found a heavy silver Art Nouveau hand mirror with its back frame the spread tail feathers of a peacock and its legs the hand grip, with inlaid mother-of-pearl in their attic. She felt that each mirror was a reflection of her friends, and with the growing concerns and interwoven drama of Jason’s murder with Hogsmeade, the Serpents, and their parents, Betty was sure the mirrors would soon become a necessity.

Sitting on the edge of her childhood bed, Betty was so focused on her thoughts and staring at the marks on her fleshy palms that she failed to notice her surroundings – and importantly, the figure at her window.

A loud knock startled her, and she whirled around with a gasp towards it, eyes wide. Jughead rapped on her window again, concern in his eyes. She raced forward and yanked the window up, staring at him in bewilderment.

“Jug? I thought you were going to wait in the Shack,” she said, stepping back as he heaved himself into her bedroom through the window, knee falling heavily onto the window seat.

“I was,” he huffed, “But it’s been three hours and I was worried.”

 _Three hours?_ Betty glanced around her room in confusion. Jughead caught the look and stepped close to her.

“You haven’t noticed?” he asked, concern in his eyes. He reached for her hands, cradling them in his. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

Betty knew she was wide-eyed and potentially worrying Jughead to a point that was more than necessary, so she offered him a smile (albeit, a watery one), and drew him back with her so that were both sitting on her bed.

They sat knee touching knee, facing one another, their hands loosely holding onto each other in reassuring grips. Jughead kept his eyes locked on her face, and she took a deep breath, looking instead at their twining fingers.

“Mom’s out for the night,” she began, feeling the familiar weariness settle heavily on her shoulders, pressing them down. “Polly –”

Jughead leaned forward a bit, dipping his head. “Polly’s what?”

“Gone to stay with the Blossoms at Thornhill,” sighed Betty, and Jughead’s fingers tightened on hers. “I – I don’t really remember much of the conversation after that, to be honest.”

Jughead grimaced. “It’s pretty upsetting news.”

“I don’t know why she would go,” muttered Betty, glancing up at her boyfriend, “especially since she can come home now.”

“Your parents changed their minds about having Polly and the baby in the house?” he asked, surprised.

Betty shook her head. “No. Mom kicked dad out because we found out that he wanted Polly to go to a Healer and get an abortion. She flipped – when I came home after seeing you, she was flinging around _Reparo_ like Cheryl tosses out insults.”

“Yikes,” replied Jughead, leaning back a bit. “So it’s just you and Mama Cooper now.”

Betty nodded.

“I’m sure Polly has a reason for going to Thornhill,” said Jughead thoughtfully, catching Betty’s eyes. “With her mother in her corner now, on top of you, it wouldn’t make sense to go there right away. She knew that the Blossoms tried to keep her and Jason apart, too, right? So she probably has a motive for going over.”

Betty’s lips twisted into a frown. “Something that she couldn’t do from here?”

“Maybe like a little investigation of her own?” teased Jughead, catching Betty’s chin with a hand and brushing his thumb across her frowning lips. “Seems to run in the family.”

Her mouth curled up and his eyes crinkled at the sides in pleasure.

“Look, it’s probably a bit late to sneak back in to Hogwarts,” said Jughead finally, after they sat in companionable silence for a bit. “I’ll go, but you stay here.”

“No way,” argued Betty immediately. “Like you said – it’s late. You can stay here, too.”

Jughead sent her a skeptical look, glancing around the room. “Where? The floor?”

Betty flushed, knowing that she could use a cushioning charm, but that it would likely be picked up by the Improper Use of Magic Department despite being in Hogsmeade. She flattened her hand against her duvet. “My bed.”

Jughead did a double-glance, eyes comically wide. “Excuse me?”

Feeling a bit firmed, it not shy, in her offer, Betty repeated, “My bed.” She then peered at him. “Besides, don’t we have to have a discussion?”

“And you think it would be best said _in your bed_?” retorted an incredulous Jughead.

Betty shrugged.

He sighed, and that was his acquiesce to her offer; she was then going to her drawers and pulling out her pajamas and he was shucking his jacket and flannel, baring himself to only a thin undershirt and his jeans.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured, slipping out of the room and to the shared bathroom she had with Polly, changing quickly and brushing her teeth. She looked at the bathroom mirror, an ornate, gilded gold oval that her mother swore was from the Palace of Versailles or some other French palace that an old Selwyn ancestor  had brought with them to England.

“You look worried dear,” the mirror said, its tone bored if not slightly patronizing. Betty recognized the tone as her mother’s. “Best get to sleep now, you’ll need those hours of beauty rest!”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, turning on her bare heel and back towards her bedroom. Upon entering, she noted that Jughead was already under the covers, looking mildly uncomfortable even though he reclined against a propped pillow, with his hands linked behind his head, beanie still on.

Betty bit her lip and edged to the vacant side of her twin bed, slipping under the covers herself and placing her wand on her bedside table. She turned to peer over her shoulder at him. “Where’s your wand?”

Jughead moved one hand from behind his head – his right – to lift straight in the air. His leather wand holster remained firmly buckled in place, his wand in its sheath.

“You don’t want to remove it for bed?” asked Betty curiously.

A strange glint appeared in his eyes. “I never remove it.”

Betty frowned contemplatively at that, but nodded and turned back to her side table, whispering, “ _Nox_.” The lamp light flickered and went out, a sleight of hand and wandless trick she learned the previous summer.

The room plunged into darkness, with only a sliver of moon night from a nearly full moon spilling into her room from the tiny slit and cracks in her window curtains.

Betty lay on her side, her back to Jughead as he remained on his back, in silence. She pillowed one hand under her head and curled the other to her front, knees slightly bent as she contemplated how to begin the conversation she knew they needed to have.

Eventually, she sighed and rolled to face him, her eyes meeting his in the dark, tiny pinpricks of white and near black irises. “Do all first years participate?”

He tensed, but then sighed and consciously made an effort to relax his body. “Yes, in Slytherin at least. The graduating class picks one first year to initiate.”

“How’d Reggie end up with the list then?” asked betty quietly in the dark. Their conversation was strangely intimate but the inability to fully see Jughead’s expressions (and likely hers) gave them both a  measure of bravery to ask the questions and answer them.

Jughead snorted. “Too many graduating Slytherins and not enough firsties. One of them saw him doing something stupid, I guess, and thought he’d make an excellent mark.”

“They didn’t think much of him then,” she confirmed, and felt Jughead nod against the top of her head, hesitantly.

“Joke’s on them,” he replied quietly. “Mantle finished his list first out of all the initiatives.”

Betty hummed contemplatively, and reached forward and gently rested her hand on Jughead’s chest, feeling his quick inhale and the steady rise and fall of his chest. “When you saw the list—”

He cut her off. “I knew I could get some of it done, and quickly. Like stealing a book from the library, or sneaking in to the Restricted Section.” He paused. “I did most of those when I wasn’t around you and Archie – during the holidays when I stayed at Hogwarts and you both went home.”

“Why didn’t you go home?” she asked, letting her head rest on his shoulder, in the groove between the bone and pectoral muscles.

His frame tensed and she _felt_ his hesitance in answering. She recognized it and pushed past by asking another question instead. “So you were ahead of most of the others then, with the list back in first year.”

Jughead chuckled, bringing his arm down to reach across her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze on her arm, tucking her closer to his side. “Yeah – I was probably ahead for a year or two. Until I ran out of things that I could do on my own, anyway.”

“On your own?” she repeated, an amused tone slipping out. “Does that mean number forty-three is done? And fifty-six?”

Jughead hummed, and she squirmed slightly against him at the knowledge; both were solitary acts of self-gratification: one in a broom closet, and the other in the Prefects’ bath.

“Let’s just say,” he said, his voice gruff, “that anything that could be done without a partner is crossed off the list.”

“That’s still quite the chunk left,” said Betty quietly.

“Unfortunately,” the distaste rang clear in his voice.

Betty frowned and plucked at his undershirt. “You were resigned to not completing the list, Jug. You were ready to lose your magic.”

“I was,” he agreed lowly.

“Why?”

 _Why didn’t you say “no”?_ she wanted to ask. She wanted to reach out and shake him, make him see reason. _Why didn’t you try harder to finish the list? Why did you try to_ not _finish the list? Why didn’t you tell us?_

“I wasn’t going to use anyone,” he finally said quietly. “I didn’t want to use anyone to complete something that was supposed to be for my benefit.”

“But... surely... if you asked someone...?”

Jughead snorted a tiny bit and shuffled around. She felt him roll and tuck her head under his chin, so they were pressed chest-to-chest. “There was no one, Betts.”

Betty felt her heart crack a little. “Jug – you’re good looking. You’re funny. There would’ve been someone if you asked.”

He sighed against her, and she felt the hand that rested at her back stroke gently up and down her spine. She let it lull her into a drowsy half-state, as she waited for his reply. When it finally came, she took a few moments to process it.

“I only ever wanted one witch.”

She stilled, the words echoing in her head as she gently pulled back, tilting her chin up to look at his face, despite most of it shrouded in the dark. His hand on her back stilled and his fingers spread, spanning much of her in a very masculine move.

“... _Jug_?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “ _Are_ _you_...? _Do_ you mean...?”

“One witch, Betts,” he whispered in reply, wordlessly confirming her scattered and stuttered questions.

Her breath hitch and she willed herself not to cry when tears welled in her eyes. She shut her eyes, taking a few deep sniffs. _Merlin, if I never put myself out there for Archie this year – if Veronica hadn’t pushed – if I never got rejected – if... he would’ve..._

Guilt crushed into her, and her chest felt tight. She took a gasping breath, and then another, and then Jughead was sitting them both up, his hands framing her face, and his eyes darting back and forth across hers. His mouth was moving but it took a few seconds for her to hear.

“... – Betts? _Merlin_ , Betty, breathe. _Please_ breathe! Look at me, Betts, look at me,” he was saying, and he pressed the flat of her palm against his chest. “In time with me, okay? With me?”

She gasped again, nodding, and tried to inhale through her clogged nose and barely managed. She concentrated on the steady rise and fall of Jughead’s chest and kept her eyes on his. She did it again, and again, until she could breathe easier.

“I’m a fucking prick,” he muttered, drawing away from her, “telling you that and causing you to freak out.”

She stopped him by grabbing his hand and holding onto it tightly. “I’m glad you did.”

He stared at her. “—you had a panic attack because I told you that I only wanted to complete the list with you.”

Betty shook her head, fondness creeping up, making her lips twitch. “I freaked out because I realized that if I still had blinders on when it came to Archie, _you_ would’ve never attempted to complete the list.”

Jughead sighed, using his free hand to run through his hair, dislodging his beanie in the process. “I probably would’ve make a token effort by seventh year. But not much.”

“ _That’s_ why I freaked out, Juggie,” she said, leaning into him so that their shoulders touched. “Because I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

 “I could’ve still been in your life, Betts, just not in the magical world,” he replied deprecatingly.

“It wouldn’t be the same, and you know it,” she retorted. “Out of the three of us, _you_ had your first bit of accidental magic, a whole _year_ before we did anything. _You_ are the one with the highest OWL score in Ancient Runes, Juggie – not me. _You_ were the likely candidate for the Dueling Club presidency until you fumbled the final duel in Archie’s favour, giving it to him, and then three months later, he quit.”

“Those are moments,” he replied quietly. “I could live without them.” He turned slightly and looked down at her, a flicker of vulnerability and fear crossing his face. “I couldn’t live with asking you for help with the list and then having you turn me down.”

“But now?” she asked, trying to figure his thought process.

He reached up and touched her cheek with his fingertips, trailing them down and then back up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess – that evening when you walked me back to the Slytherin dorms – _you_ kissed _me_. I – I didn’t expect that.”

He looked a bit thunderstruck, and Betty held her breath.

“I didn’t expect _you_ , Betts,” he said. “But I remember thinking... I remember you saying goodnight and about to close the entrance, and you said ‘ten points’ and I thought, _Jughead Jones – you might just have a chance_. _Don’t fuck it up_.”

“You spent more time around me after that,” Betty recalled, thinking back to those moments just after Archie’s rejection at the back to school dance which Cheryl hijacked, and her mild pity party that quickly changed when she found him in the kitchens that night, and when Kevin called to tell her about finding Jason’s body with Moose. How suddenly Jughead became her rock – something solid and familiar to lean against – while Archie was pulled further in with Professor Grundy, leaving the way open for her to soothe her wounded pride.

She had always used Archie as a buffer for Jughead, she realized. While they were all friends, she rarely spent time alone with Jughead unless it was because Archie ditched her growing up, or because she wanted to complain about Archie. And Jughead _allowed_ it.

Betty’s cheeks flushed in shame, and she hunched slightly.

“What?” Jughead asked.

“I’ve been a terrible friend to you, haven’t I?” she muttered despondently, not looking up from her lap.

“Do you remember when I made that ‘no witches allowed’ rule for the tree house Mr. Andrews built in their backyard?” asked Jughead, his voice warm and low.

She nodded.

“It took Archie _three_ _years_ to convince me that it was stupid and you weren’t a witch, just another one of us boys,” said Jughead, a smile in his voice. Betty snorted – _not a witch, right_. That was definitely how Archie saw her. “And I finally changed my mind when—”

“—I baked you those cauldron cakes,” finished Betty, remembering with a smile, at the way Jughead’s face had lit up. It was the spring before Hogwarts, and she was so sure she was going to lose her two closest friends, but the cauldron cakes changed everything. Jughead had, since they were eight, told her she wasn’t allowed in their clubhouse.

“I always knew you were a witch,” he admitted, a flush across the bridge of his nose when Betty glanced up to smile at him. “I just thought you had... I dunno... cooties or something. But you were different to me, and Archie. I knew that.”

“You asked me to marry you when I gave you those cakes,” she teased, poking his side and he squirmed away.

“I had good taste even back then,” he quipped.

She snuggled into his side, their legs hanging over the edge of the bed. “You have the most discerning palate,” she agreed.

“So what now?” he asked, drawing her in closer.

She yawned. “Now, we get some sleep.”

He stifled a yawn of his own. “Yeah? And then what?”

“Well, it’ll be a new day when we wake up,” replied Betty. “And I think that if Polly is going to investigate the _inner_ workings of the Blossoms, we can investigate the _outer_ workings.”

“Oh?” asked Jughead, raising his eyebrows. “What are you thinking, Nancy Drew?”

Betty bit her lip and glanced up at him with wide eyes. “... the Blossom winery at the edge of their property, and maybe their office in Hogsmeade?”

Jughead groaned and flopped dramatically down behind her on her bed, an arm flung across his face. “Do you have an invisibility cloak we can use, too? Sneaking around Hogsmeade isn’t going to be easy.”

“Well, it’s a good thing it’s Saturday and a Hogsmeade weekend, then, isn’t it?” replied Betty smartly, lying down and shuffling up so her head on was the pillow.

Jughead glanced at her from under his arm, although it was hard for her to see him in the dark. She saw the outline of his body and a faint glint as the moonlight reflected off the buckles of his wand holster.

“I completely forgot,” he admitted, moving his body up so it rested next to hers.

“I’m a Prefect, I have to patrol for a few hours,” answered Betty, “which is a perfect cover.”

“And for Thornhill and the winery?”

Betty shrugged. “I think between one Slytherin and Hufflepuff, we’ve got the sneaky earnestness down.”

Jughead stifled a laugh, curling an arm around Betty and hauling her to his side, the little spoon to his big. “If we’re doing that, I need to be on top of my game. Sleep, Betts.”

Wrapped in his arms, and comforted by the solid presence of him behind her, Betty easily drifted off to sleep.

*

Betty woke to the sound of her mother rummaging loudly through the cupboards in the kitchen, with the warbling tone of Celestina Warbeck blaring from a Wireless set. Light spilled in her room through the two gaps in the curtains from her two windows – one beside the bed, and the other opposite it – falling onto her face and warming it.

A soft snore beside her ear made her smile.

At some point during the night, Jughead had rolled onto his front, his arm pinning her to the bed and draped over her hip, as she was still on her side. His face was pushed into the pillow, his check pressed up and creased from the pillowcase, and a tiny bit of drool pooling at the side. His right arm was tucked up behind him in a horribly awkward position. Betty grinned.

She gingerly picked up his arm and slid out from under it, tiptoeing away and gathering clothes to wear. She entered her shared bathroom with Polly and hurriedly undressed, slipping into their shower. Once down, she hopped out, towelled dry, brushed her teeth and dressed. When she entered her room, Jughead had taken advantage of the space she had freed, and had both arms flung wide and his hands dangling off the sides of the small twin bed. His beanie lay on the far end of the pillow.

She crept forward and gently nudged him, her mouth by his ear. “Jug? Juggie? You need to wake up.”

He started, snuffling a bit as he woke, blinking before focusing on her face. “Betts?”

“My mom’s awake and downstairs,” she said, straightening. “You’d best leave through the window before she decides to come up here and wake me.”

Jughead nodded, pushing himself up. Betty took a moment to admire his lean form, the muscles in his arms flexing as ran his hands through his hair.

“I’ll meet you at the end of the street,” he said, his voice low and rough from disuse. Butterflies shifted in her stomach and she nodded, leaving her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

In the kitchen, Alice stood by the prep island, nursing a mug of tea, and reading over the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_.

“Anything of yours in there this morning?” asked Betty as she reached for a travel mug and teabag.

“No,” replied Alice shortly. Although she was dressed and her makeup was flawlessly applied, Betty saw she hadn’t used any Glamours to hide away the evidence of last night’s emotional response to Polly’s decision.

Betty busied herself with pouring the hot water from a steaming teapot into the mug, and prepping the tea how she knew Jughead liked it.

“What are your plans today?” her mother asked, causing Betty to turn around, licking the spoon she used to stir.

Around it, Betty mumbled, “Patrolling Hogsmeade.”

“Remove the spoon and try again, Elizabeth.”

Betty sighed. “I’m patrolling Hogsmeade for a few hours, so I’ll be in town until curfew.”

Alice didn’t answer, watching her daughter as she screwed the top on the travel mug. Betty tucked the mug into the drink pocket of her backpack and began to leave the kitchen. Just as Betty was about to leave, her mother called her name. Betty turned, curious as to what her mother wanted.

Alice was looking at her over the rim of her mug. “You should eat something, then.” Her chin tipped to a large Tupperware container. “I put a heating charm on it – there are some pancakes and eggs in there.”

Betty stared. “I can’t eat all that, mom.”

She nodded. “I know – it’s for you and Jughead to share.”

Betty froze.

“I – I beg your pardon?” she stuttered, eyes wide.

Alice raised her eyebrows and put her mug down. “Did you really think the wards wouldn’t alert me when your night time visitor climbed through your window?”

Betty swallowed heavily. “Mom – I – we – nothing happened –”

“Oh, _I know_ ,” replied Alice, eyes firmly on her daughter. “And I would know, Betty. I updated the wards after Polly’s little incident.” She glanced down at the Tupperware. “Best not keep him waiting. He climbed back out a few minutes ago now.”

Betty didn’t need to be told twice, reaching forward and snatching the warm container and then bolting from the room and house, not stopping until she reached the end of the street. Jughead was leaning against a fence post, hands buried deep in his pockets and little white puffs of air escaping his mouth in the cold morning. He stared down another street while waiting for her, but turned when she skidded to a stop.

“Betty?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the container at him.

“What—?”

“It’s from my mom,” gasped Betty, leaning forward and down slightly to catch her breath. “She – knew – you stayed – the – night.”

Jughead froze at her words. He peered over her shoulder down towards the Cooper household. He whispered, “Is she following you?”

Betty stifled a laugh. “No, but she did give me breakfast to share with you.”

Caught between his fear for her mother, and the grumbling of an empty stomach, Jughead opened the container and saw two forks stuck with a charm on the bottom of the lid, and sighed. Food won out, and he began to eagerly dive into the pancakes and eggs, walking slowly with Betty towards the center of Hogsmeade.

“What’s first?” he asked around a mouthful of food.

“Thornhill, I think,” she replied. “I don’t need to be patrolling until two, so we have all morning.”

He nodded in agreement, and then they were off.

Instead of turning right, towards Hogsmeade, they went left, up the mountainside and towards the nicer manor homes. Thornhill sat apart from them all (including the McCoy and Mantle estates), on a large parcel of varied landscape; the mansion may have sat on a mountainous ridge to overlook Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, and the Black Lake, but the land itself sloped into farmland and forest, merging with the Eversgreen forest that crept around Hogsmeade until it merged with the Forbidden Forest to the north, encircling the tiny magical town.

On their land was the relocated and modernized elf winery, as they left their old mill and building to rot on land they sold decades past.

Jughead and Betty viewed the facility from their position in the woods, crouched behind a large fern. They had crept as close as they could on the land before stopping just in front of the wards, surveyed the winery from behind the invisible barrier. It looked like a traditional barn, made of stone and wood, but the doors were barred shut with iron.

“Well, now what?” asked Jughead, a frown on his face.

Betty sighed. “Unless we’re invited through the wards, this is as far as we can go.”

“You can tell what kind of wards they are?” he asked, surprised, turning to face her.

She kept her eyes on the barn ahead, nodding. “Blood wards – the same kind my other uses around our house. Each family member is keyed in through a blood sacrifice – like a pinprick – that gives them access in and old, whether by foot, Floo, Apparation, or broomstick.”

“Is Polly included in that, you think?” he asked, turning to face the barn.

Betty shrugged. “She may not need to be, carrying Jason’s baby. Magic is funny – it’s about intent, Professor Flitwick was telling me.”

“Well,” he began sardonically, “Unless we wish _really, really hard_ , I don’t think this portion of our sleuthing date is going to be a success.”

Betty mentally sighed in agreement, brushing her hands on her jeans as she prepared to stand. Her thighs tensed and just as she was about to move, Jughead’s hand landed heavily on her shoulder, pushing her down.

“Jug—what—”

“ _Shh_ ,” he hissed, eyes narrowed and focused ahead of them, at the barn. In confusion, Betty tilted her head and peered through a gap made by a few orange leaves. She breathlessly gasped.

Clifford Blossom strode purposefully towards the barn, flicking his wand at the doors which silently opened at his command. They remained open as he went inside.

“C’mon,” muttered Jughead, eyes still forward as he began to creep back. “We need to find another angle.”

Betty followed, hunched over as they moved from bush to bush. With her knowledge of blood wards, Betty guided them along the invisible line, finally standing behind a tree, leaning around it. Jughead was in front of her, shielding most of her body in case anyone spotted them, but she was able to peer around his shoulder and chest.

 It was still too far away to see things clearly, but they were able to peer directly into the barn. However, it was dark, and the only light came from the sunlight of the late morning, and the flickering torches inside.

“Ugh, I can’t see anything,” muttered Jughead.

“I wish we had some Omnoculars,” sighed Betty. “We used them during the Quidditch game the other week.”

“Well, all I can see is a bunch of bottles,” groused Jughead, “Most of which are probably Blossom elf wine.”

“Where did Mr. Blossom go, though?” asked Betty, squinting at the barn as well.

Jughead shrugged. “Maybe there are more floors.”

“Anything is possible with magic,” replied Betty with a pout. “I bet this would be easier without magic.”

Jughead shook his head. “With our luck? I doubt it.” He sighed, pulling away from the tree. “C’mon, let’s go get some lunch and then try our luck in Hogsmeade instead.”

“Lunch?” Betty grinned up at him. “Are you asking me out on a date, Jones?”

Jughead glanced over his shoulder at the blonde witch behind him, a tiny smirk on his lips. “Guess I am, Cooper.”

By the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, the sun was at its peak and the town was overrun with loud teenagers from the age of thirteen up. Several younger third years, experiencing their first Hogsmeade weekend, were excitedly running back and forth from the shops, while older teens were either on dates or with their friends, and others were doing last-minute shopping for stationary or books.

The Three Broomsticks was packed.

The pub was noisy, filled wall-to-wall with teenagers and a few regular patrons, including a professor or two, who sat at the bar and not the tables. As they hovered in the door, their eyes swept the floor, looking either for a free table or someone they knew to join.

Jughead nudged her, jerking his chin towards a table for two. The two others who were sitting there were standing, ready to leave and a house elf had already appeared with a cloth to clean the table. Betty led the way to the table, weaving between people and friendly calls of hello from Hufflepuffs, claiming the table by throwing herself into a vacant seat. Jughead followed shortly.

“Good eye,” she complimented.

“You’re a bit militant when it comes to claiming tables,” he replied instead, and at her confusion, jerked his head behind him. She looked over and saw two disgruntled Gryffindors eye her nastily, having lost out on the table.

She bit back a grin, turning to him. “I always thought us Hufflepuffs were just nice Slytherins.”

Jughead’s dark blue eyes sparkled in response.

“Alright lovelies?” asked Madam Rosmerta as she appeared at their table, hands brushing against her apron, which emphasized her large bosom.

Betty was quite surprised – and very pleased – at the gentlemanly behaviour Jughead exhibited, as he kept his eyes strictly on the barmaid’s eyes.

“Hi Ros,” he greeted. “Two dragon burgers for me with a side of fries and a Butterbeer.”

“So, your usual,” she snorted, turning to Betty. “And you, dear?”

“A dragon burger for me, but weeds on the side,” she replied, thinking her mother would not be pleased if she ordered onion rings or something else greasy. “And a Butterbeer, too.”

“Coming right up,” the older witch said, turning away and back towards the bar, where she could survey the pub with keen eyes.

Their food appeared on the tabletop with a quiet _pop_ , and the duo dug right in – Jughead with a bit more gusto.

“Where do you put it all?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Not a clue,” he replied, finishing one burger and eyeing the second.

Betty took her time with her burger and salad, more entranced by watching Jughead heartily  demolish two burgers and his side order, knowing he ate the pancakes and eggs her mother had given them that morning as well, as the empty Tupperware container in her bag evidenced.

“You patrol at two, right?” asked Jughead, leaning back in his seat after wiping his fingers and mouth with a napkin.

Betty nodded. “I’ve got about a half hour before I need to start, and then I’m here until five, when the younger students need to go back to Hogwarts.”

“Are you staying in town again tonight?” asked Jughead.

“Probably,” she replied, “Especially if we need to snoop some more.”

“What?” asked Jughead, adopting a vaguely hurt face. “You don’t trust me to investigate on my own?”

“I think you’ll be fine, Juggie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you while you’re creeping about,” she replied.

“Jones? Not creeping about? That’ll be the day.”

The two tilted their heads back to see Reggie standing with Josie McCoy, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Reggie, Josie,” greeted Betty. “Are you here for a late lunch?”

“We were hoping to beat the crowd,” replied an annoyed Josie as she surveyed the still busy pub.

Betty glanced at Jughead, who caught her meaning and together, they began to split the cost of their meal. Jughead offered, “We’ll be leaving now – you can have the table.”

“Thanks, Jones,” said Reggie, surprise flashing across his face. Once they had the right amount of Galleons out, Betty moved to pay at the bar. “Wait – were you two on a _date_?”

Jughead sent a scowl Reggie’s way as Josie swatted him. Betty ignored it, and approached the bar, too far to hear what was said next between the three.

“On your way then, love?” asked Rosmerta as Betty handed her the coins.

Betty nodded. “Lunch was great, as always.”

Rosmerta laughed. “It always is when that wizard is around,” she tipped her head towards the table and Betty glanced over her shoulder. Josie was sitting at the table, looking at the chalkboard menu above the bar, but Reggie and Jughead were staring uneasily at each other, their lips moving back and forth in a low, tense conversation.

“I should go,” replied Betty, nervously. Without waiting for an answer, she moved around the far side of the room, coming at the table from the opposite direction she left.

“—if you get what I mean,” she heard from Reggie as she approached behind him.

Jughead frowned deeply, and spotted her. “Hey. Ready to go?”

She strode past the taller Gryffindor and looped her arm with Jughead’s. “Yes – all paid.” She glanced back at Reggie, who was staring at them. “’Bye, Reggie. Enjoy your date.”

She didn’t wait for his reply either, pulling Jughead with her across the pub floor and not stopping until they were outside and down the main street.

Once they had passed Gladrags, did Jughead speak up. “Is there a reason we’re going in this direction?”

“I start patrol in thirty minutes,” she answered, changing her grip on his arm to sliding her hand down to hold his. Jughead, in response, laced their fingers together. “I thought I’d start from the Pembroke and work my way down the main street and then back again.”

“Fair enough,” replied Jughead, and together they strolled like any normal witch and wizard couple down the cobblestone street, glancing right and left at Dervish and Banges, and then at a Weasley Wizard Wheezes branch.

Betty glanced to her right, towards the four-storey Pembroke Inn. Next to the building was a small restaurant, attached to the side and the same kitchen that Hermione Lodge used for the catering services the other night for Polly’s baby shower. The restaurant had a clear, shiny front window, which she glanced into absently.

She then did a double-take, gasping. She yanked hard on Jughead’s arm and pulled him back to her, and then to the corner of the building.

“Ouch – Betts!”

“ _Shh_ ,” she mimicked him from earlier, pushing him behind her and then peeking around the building’s exterior.

With his height, Jughead was able to lean over her rather than around, and together they watched the front entrance of the restaurant – just as Clifford Blossom walked out with Mayor McCoy.

“What the hell?” muttered Jughead.

“Exactly,” whispered back Betty, not removing her eyes from them. “I spotted them together inside, finishing their meal. What on earth do they have in common?”

“Other than being mean magical folk who tear down dreams?” retorted Jughead, still bitter about the Twilight.

“Other than that,” chided Betty.

They watched the witch and wizard as they stopped to speak just outside the doors. They shook hands and Betty strained to hear what they were saying, hoping their words were caught by the wind.

“ _Usual – all – fine_ ,” said Mayor McCoy.

“ _Good_ ,” replied Mr. Blossom.

“ _Until – month_ ,” she replied, clutching the folder close while Mr. Blossom donned a hat. She patted it with one hand and tucked it securely into her purse.

He turned and Apparated with a loud _pop_!, just as she turned and began walking across the street to the Hogsmeade town hall.

“Shady business deal?” asked Jughead, eventually.

“Looks like,” sighed Betty. “And I can’t investigate because it’s time to patrol.”

“I can do some on my own,” replied Jughead, pulling back to lean against the restaurant wall in the tiny alley they were in.

“All right,” replied Betty, eyeing the image he presented, insolently leaning against a brick wall with one foot pressed against it and his hands deep in his denim jacket. The straps of his suspenders hung low. She bit her lip.

“I’ll see you at the end of your patrol?” he asked.

“My house?” she offered.

He shuddered but nodded. “Fine. There better be food.”

“I promise there will be,” she laughed.

He eyed her, then reached forward and pulled her against him, dipping his head and kissing her. Betty sighed into the kiss, leaning heavily against his front and letting him take her weight. He gently pushed her back and nudged her back a physical step, separating them.

“Go on,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ll see you later.”

Dazed and hair mussed, as well as her lips bee-stung, Betty nodded and turned on her heel, leaving Jughead in the alley. Immediately, she brushed her hands over her hair and tightened her ponytail, as well as smoothed any wrinkles his grasping hands might have caused, hoping to look presentable.

 _Three hours_ , she thought. She could manage three hours without him.

(She lasted fifteen minutes, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.)

*

Alice was not home when Betty and Jughead arrived at the Cooper residence that evening, and with her father no longer in the house, it was just the two of them.

By unspoken decision, they ended up in the kitchen, Jughead seated at the dining room table and watching her as she organized a pasta meal, while he wrote down notes of what he uncovered at Mayor McCoy’s office.

Once the pasta was done, and they were seated across from each other, messily eating the noodles, did he explain what he discovered.

“It wasn’t much,” he apologized, “Because I couldn’t exactly snoop through everything. Not with her right there.”

 Betty made a sympathetic grimace.

“ _However_ ,” he stressed, between bites of noodle, “Apparently her aide made a bit of a dragon’s mess and she had to step out to clarify something with him. I had a few seconds to check her planner.”

“And?” asked Betty, leaning forward eagerly.

“She meets with Clifford Blossom every middle of the month,” finished Jughead, as well as finishing his second helping of the pasta Betty made. He reached for his drink – pumpkin juice – and gulped some down. “Like clockwork.”

Betty leaned back. “Every month?”

“Every month,” he confirmed, watching her.

“So whatever he’s doing, she’s involved,” sighed Betty, clearly thinking of Josie and seeing her at lunch.

“Probably,” agreed Jughead. “But do you think whatever they’re doing had something to do with Jason’s death?”

“Monthly meetings don’t mean anything,” argued Betty.

“No,” agreed Jughead, a strange little smile on his lips, “But the words ‘Greendale’ and ‘payment’ might.”

Betty’s fork clattered into her bowl as she stared at him. “You don’t think... Jason knew to go to the Serpents for quick galleons because his father uses them, do you? Polly was certain the drop for the potions was in England, somewhere in the Cotswolds, not Greendale.”

Jughead shrugged. “There’s someone we could ask.”

Betty frowned. “Your dad isn’t going to answer that, Juggie.”

“He might not,” agreed Jughead, crossing his arms over the table. “But he might know someone else who _can_ tell us.”

They stared at each other from across the table. Finally, Betty shook her head. “Let’s sit on this one a bit more. We don’t exactly want to antagonise the Serpents if we’re investigating _them_ next.”

Jughead sighed. “Fine.”

Betty eyed him. “I thought you believed that your father wasn’t involved.”

“I said I believed that he didn’t _kill_ _Jason_ ,” replied Jughead quietly. “Not that he wasn’t involved.”

The sat in an uneasy silence for a few minutes. Then, Jughead began to clear the table, and Betty helped. Once everything was washed and put away, they mutually decided to go back to her room. To take their minds off Jason’s murder and his family’s business, Betty challenged Jughead to a game of wizard’s chess.

Which he trounced her in.

Twice.

Frustrated, Betty challenged him a third time – she was a bit addicted to his self-confident smirk – and Jughead upped the ante. “Each piece that is removed, the loser has to kiss the other where they want.”

It was a bit sexy, and although nervous, Betty agreed. She promptly lost four pawns and a bishop, resulting in her initiating four kisses on his cheek and one on his mouth.

Losing her rook meant kissing his neck.

And somehow, in the middle of the game, she dozed off, her head falling onto his shoulder, arms wrapped around her.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good portion of the next chapter is already done, as I ended up splitting this one. So, hopefully, another chapter will be coming shortly - it really depends!
> 
> Don't forget to say "hi" on [Tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com)!


	19. When Seeking Answers...

*

XIX: When Seeking Answers...

*

 **Clive Babineaux** : You weren’t performing when Syd was killed. You’d already disappeared off-stage for your closer.

 **Houdina** : Guys, I didn’t actually disappear. I hate to break this to you. Magic isn’t real. You remember the cocktail waitress at the end of the show? The one you asked if she knew where I was? That was me. I had her costume on underneath mine.

 **Clive Babineaux** : But I looked right at you.

 **Houdina** : That’s the thing about a magic trick. If it’s done well, the answer’s right in front of you.

\-- “Abra Cadaver,” 2x07, _iZombie_

*

_Weekdays, from 8:30 a.m. to 5:01 p.m., we adhere to a strict regimen at Hogwarts: get up, eat breakfast in the Great Hall, attend class, eat lunch in the Great Hall (again); attend some more classes. Everything in our lives controlled, from start to finish, Monday through Friday._

_But then something like the murder of Jason Blossom happens, and you realize there is no such thing as control._

_There is only chaos._

*

When they woke, Betty was wrapped thoroughly in Jughead’s arms, her back pressed to his front and his cold-tipped nose pressing against the skin of her neck, his breath hot on her. They had both been too exhausted to do more than some kissing during their chess matches, and even this morning, Betty felt the flush of pleasure of knowing that she and Jughead were _finally_ on the same page regarding their relationship and gaining (useful?) information regarding Jason’s death.

Betty bit her lip as she tentatively stretched her arm forward, out from under the blanket and towards her bedside table, where her wand and mirror lay. Her fingertips caught the edge and she inched the mirror forward, the compact finally coming within reach of her grasp. She eased it close to her and flipped it open.

“Polly Cooper,” she whispered, calling her sister’s name. But, like yesterday, there was no answer.

“Hey,” murmured a sleepy, gravelly voice from behind her. “Still nothing?”

Betty fought the urge to shake her head, instead squeezing her eyes shut as she clutched the compact to her front. “Polly won’t answer my calls and there’s no reply to the owl I sent last night. I mean, I get that she doesn’t want to talk to my dad, but what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Jughead, sounding a bit more awake. He propped his head up with one hand, his elbow decompressing the pillow, and Betty rolled to face him. “We’ll figure it out. Promise. Come here.”

Betty sighed, dipping into to his shoulder to snuggle as his other arm draped across her.

“What time is it?” he asked into her hair.

She shrugged, but peeked over his shoulder towards her window, where bright sunlight spilled through a slit in the curtain. “No idea, but we should get up soon before my mom—”

Betty’s bedroom door swung open, and Alice Cooper strode through, straight to the curtain on the far wall opposite the bed, loudly saying, “Up and at ‘em, breakfast is ready.”

Betty and Jughead both scrambled upright, Jughead swearing as he fell off the bed on the side closest to the window and where Alice stood, her hands on her hips as she looked down at him, one imperious eyebrow raised.

Betty stood on the other side, eyes wide. “I’m not hungry,” she finally blurted, drawing her mother’s attention.

Alice rolled her eyes and stepped forward, just as Jughead popped his head up from the other side of the bed, staring at her with wide eyes, his beanie now on his head but lopsided.

“Enough is enough, Elizabeth, we have a big week ahead of us!” said Alice, hands on her hips as she surveyed her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend – both very much dressed in their clothes from the previous day. “Haven’t you heard? No, obviously not since you were both in bed until just _now_. Anyway – the Blossoms have always been a thorn in our side, ever since, according to your milquetoast father, Great-Grandpappy Blossom killed Great-Grandpappy Cooper. Well, it’s about time someone brings them to heel. I’m writing a searing, no-holds-barred takedown of their clan.”

“How?” asked a very suspicious Jughead as he slowly stood from his crouch and perched at the edge of Betty’s bed.

Betty nodded to back up his question, echoing it. “Yeah, how, mom?”

“Word has it that the Blossom board of trustees has descended upon Hogsmeade like a cabal of vampires gathering in Greendale because there’s a blood donation drive in town,” said Alice, her eyes cold as she spoke. “Why? Now, that’s a story. I just need to find a way in.”

Betty pursed her lips. “And you think that’s going to bring Polly home?”

Alice shrugged, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her rose petal robes. “Maybe, maybe not, but it’ll make me feel better.”

“It could hurt Polly in the meantime,” argued Betty from beside her bed.

Alice levelled a hard stare at her remaining daughter. “She made her bed, Betty. And now she can lie in it.”

“That’s harsh, mom,” whispered back Betty after a moment of stunned surprise.

“You know what’s harsh?” asked Alice, eyebrows up, and pointedly looking back at Jughead, who froze. “A mother grounding her daughter from all social activity when not at Hogwarts. A tracking charm on her person at all times because her boyfriend stayed the night, even though her older sister is pregnant from when _her_ boyfriend stayed overnight.”

Betty swallowed heavily, recognizing the threat as well as the olive branch her mother was holding over her. However, she bitterly ground out, “Point made, mom.”

“Good.” Alice looked back at her daughter, the hard stare of her green eyes softening just a bit. “Now. Freshen up. Breakfast is ready and then you’re both going back to Hogwarts.”

Alice strode from the room, leaving Betty and Jughead in silence. Finally, Jughead cleared his throat and Betty’s eyes swung towards him.

“You mom is...” he shuddered.

Betty nodded. “That was weird.” She glanced at the bedroom door, left open by her mother. “We’d best go before she comes back up.”

Jughead’s eyes widened and he glanced at the door, too. “Do you think she would?”

“Yes,” said Betty firmly. “And that time she wouldn’t be nice about it.”

“That was her being _nice_?!”

Betty glanced at him, a bit of amusement on her face. “Did you want to shower first and freshen up? I can go downstairs and keep her busy.”

Jughead nodded, and she pointed him in the direction of the upstairs bath. As soon as he left her room, she did a quick change from her jeans and sweater from the previous night into a new pair of jeans and a new camisole and cardigan.

Downstairs, her mother was in the familiar position she had been the previous morning, except she didn’t feign reading the _Prophet._  Instead she eyed her youngest daughter from behind her mug, leaning against the counter.

Three plates were set at the dining room table, and Betty slid into her usual seat while her mother took the head. Betty glanced at the plate next to her, and opened her mouth to ask her mother why she was allowing Jughead such liberties where Archie never had the same – but Jughead appeared in the kitchen.

He tentatively sat next to her, and by some unspoken command, everyone reached for their utensils and began to eat. Betty kept cutting glances between her boyfriend and mother, oblivious to the bland oatmeal she was eating.

Finally, Alice spoke. “This better not be a weekend occurrence.”

“What would not?” asked Betty, slowly.

Alice pointedly looked at Jughead, who flushed and kept his face bowed over his plate of eggs and bacon and beans. “ _Jug-head_ staying over.”

“It won’t Mrs. Cooper,” promised Jughead immediately, before Betty could say anything. She turned her head towards him, eyes wide. “We just got caught up on some details for the Black and Gold last night.”

“Mmhmm,” said Alice, narrowing her eyes at him. Jughead stared back. “And just how far are you both in with your – investigation?”

“Last time we spoke about it, you accused Jughead of being the one leading my,” Betty paused, “ _macabre_ obsession with Jason’s death.”

“Well, that obsession found Polly, and gave us a momentary leg up on the Blossoms,” replied Alice loftily, delicately biting a piece of fruit. “So you Nifflers have potential, if anything.”

 _A backhanded compliment,_ thought Betty with a roll of her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” she said aloud instead, the sarcasm thick in her voice.

“Well?” she asked then, peering at the two at the table. “What else have you discovered?”

“... why?” asked Jughead slowly, putting down his fork and knife.

Alice shrugged. “Curiosity.”

Betty’s eyebrows rose as she looked at her mother and waited for a more truthful answer, although whatever Alice Cooper would say would be laden with half-truths and evasions.

“Fine, I wanted to know if you learned why the Blossom board is coming to Hogsmeade,” she finally bit out.

“You literally just told us about it,” said Betty.

“Yes, and you might have discovered something yesterday,” replied Alice evenly.

Betty turned to Jughead, who shrugged, leaving it to her to decide what to tell her mother. She sighed, and realized there was no point in keeping things. “Clifford Blossom has monthly meetings with Mayor McCoy, and Juggie discovered that there is something about _payments_ and _Greendale_ involved.” She paused. “Also, we think Polly is at Thornhill because she’s investigating things from inside.” 

A strange expression crossed Alice’s face at the mention of Polly. Then, it shut down – went blank in a way Betty only saw Slytherins do – and she nodded. “Thank you.”

Once Jughead finished his third helping of breakfast – which had somehow slipped into second breakfast and maybe even elevensies – Betty was more than ready to return to Hogwarts and add their information to their murder board.

She and Jughead retrieved their school bags from her bedroom, and left her mother in the dining room, rummaging through spare bits of parchment.

“Pinch me,” he whispered when they were there, scooping his bag up. “I think I’ve died – all I ever heard were horror stories about your mother from Archie and she’s being _nice_ to me, Betts.”

“I think you’d have to check me for mind-altering potions, Jug,” replied Betty, “Because I’m just as confused as you!”

They descended the stairs to see Alice waiting for them at the bottom. “Oh good,” she said, glancing up. “Betty, why don’t you accompany me to the Prophet office in town to see your father? Jughead can head back to Hogwarts.”

Betty glanced at Jughead. _But..._

He nodded. “It’s okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Don’t start anything without me!” she warned, and, knowing her mother was watching, leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

He flushed, nodded at Alice and sent Betty a flash of a grin, and left the Cooper household. Alice and Betty watched the shut door for a moment, and then looked at each other.

“Let’s Apparate,” offered Alice, reaching forward and taking Betty’s arm in her hand, and with a spin of her heel, they were gone. They reappeared outside the one-storey stone building off near the owl post office, just in front of the glass door and window, with fancy gold script on it reading _Daily Prophet – Hogsmeade Office_.

Alice strode forward purposefully. Betty was beginning to wonder if there was an ulterior motive her mother had in mind, but Alice opened the door and Betty followed on her heels without pursuing the thought further other than beginning to regret the decision of joining her to see her father.

Alice paced the hallway of the interior. Along one side of the room, two fireplaces burned bright, waiting for incoming or outgoing Floo travel. The opposite side of the room held three offices, one being her fathers’ – as Head Editor of the Hogsmeade branch – and the other her mothers’ being a lead reporter. The final office was primarily storage or an extra desk for travelling reporters.

There were no mementos or knickknacks in the office, as neither really used their Hogsmeade space, preferring to travel straight to London and report to Barnabas Cuffe, the Editor-in-Chief of the entire paper. Despite that, Betty spied several half-full mugs littering the entrance hall of the one-floor office, including a pair of Hal’s favourite slippers tucked just behind one of the armchairs.

“Hal!” called Alice, striding forward through the front door and into the long hallway that served as foyer and waiting room. “Hal!”

Betty’s father emerged from his office, hair sticking up and sweater rumpled. “Alice? What are you doing here?”

Alice strode forward, reaching into her purse and drawing out a thick wad of parchment roll Betty had seen her writing on earlier. She slammed it against his chest, making Hal fumble to grab it before it hit the floor.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyes not leaving hers.

Alice grinned, and it was distinctly shark-like. “The biggest story we’ve ever broken. A tell-all expose on the Blossom clan and all of their glorious corruption.”

Hal blinked. He then turned to Betty, who had been hovering behind her mother, hoping to be ignored. “Um, would you mind telling me what your mother is talking about?”

Betty opened her mouth to reply – to tell him about what she and Jughead had discovered, with Clifford Blossom and Mayor McCoy and the snooping her mother had done, about Polly going to Thornhill – but Alice spoke up first.

“It’s time that they finally answer to everything that they’ve done to us, including taking Polly,” the blonde witch announced, eyes steely. “By the way, Polly’s living with the Blossoms now, so congratulations, you’ve finally got what you wanted. She’s officially out of our lives.”

Hal frowned, placing the roll on the mantle of the nearest fireplace. His shoulders were tense, and Betty watched as he carefully took a few deep breaths. She recognized him counting mentally to deal with his wife. “I’m not publishing your personal vendetta.”

Alice stared at him, her right hand clenching at her side, and Betty realized that her bad habits came from her mother – but instead of digging her nails in, Alice was curling her fingers like grasping her wand tightly.

“Well,” she breathed heavily, “it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission.”

She turned on her heel, her periwinkle blue robes brushing her husband sharply, making him stumble out of her way as she moved to her office – only to bounce off an invisible wall.

Betty gasped.

Startled, Alice’s eyes widened and then narrowed. She tried again – but was rebuffed. Scowling, she turned to Hal’s office, and the same thing happened; as did with the spare office.

“What did you do, Hal?!” she snapped, turning around to face him.

Hal shrugged, hands held out entreatingly, but there was a bit of an edge in the sharpness of his face. “Well, you kicked me out. So, now, I’m kicking you out.”

Both Alice and Betty gapped – although for different reasons. Alice, because she had never thought her husband would turn on her like that, and Betty, because she had never seen her father reach his temper with her.

“What, Allie?” he asked, a mocking tone to his voice. “You think that just because I’m a Muggleborn that I didn’t read the Selwyn grimoire once we married? That I was too squeamish to read through it?” he barked out a sharp laugh. “No way – I may have been a Hufflepuff but preservation is important to us too, and knowing how to create or adjust our family wards meant I could figure out how to put some up here, too.”

“If we expose the Blossoms, maybe –” Alice took a deep breath, attempting to appeal to him, “Just _maybe_ , we might have a chance in Hades to get our daughter back.”

Hal levelled a hard look at her. In the silence between them, Betty held her breath. Finally, he shook his head, his voice tired. “You are done here, Alice. You’re fired.”

“What?” Alice’s mouth dropped open.

There was steel in Hal’s voice when he repeated, “You’re fired.”

Alice pursed her lips. “Fine, Hal.”

She turned and Betty tripped over her feet to follow her mother, eyes glancing back at her father who, despite standing tall against his wife, had turned to face the flames of the fireplace, a contemplative look on his face.

 _What is happening to my family?_ wondered Betty, lagging behind, hoping to catch her father’s attention. He turned his slightly, and their eyes met.

Betty waved, trying to show without words she still cared. She stepped out of the building, through the main entrance, where her mother was waiting impatiently. When Betty turned to her, she took an involuntary step back.

“Mom?”

Alice ignored her, her fingertips sparking with her magic. “HAL!” She shouted, and her husband turned from inside the office, glancing at her through the glass door.

“What?” he mouthed.

Alice fumed, raising her wand to point at him. His eyes widened.

“I want my daughter back, you bastard!” she shouted angrily, tearfully. “ _Bombarda_!”

Glass shattered and sprinkled inward, and Hal hastily raised his wand, casting _protego_ as the shrapnel flew towards him. The door blew off its hinges and caught against the armchairs, tipping one over.

“Mom!” shrieked Betty, rooted in the spot.

Alice breathed heavily while Hal eventually moved, dropping his shield and wand, eyes wide.

“Jesus Christ, Alice!” he shouted, eyes flashing in anger.

Several _pops_ from down the street alerted Betty to the arrival of the Hogsmeade Aurors, their distinct red robes catching Alice’s attention, as she shifted her eyes to them and away from Hal.

“Madam Cooper?” one asked, approaching slowly. “Can you lower your wand?”

“Elizabeth,” said Alice, her tone even, not removing her eyes from the small group of men in front of her. “Please return to Hogwarts.”

“Mom?”

“Do it,” ordered Alice.

Betty glanced back towards her father, who had moved closer to the front of the building with his wand still in hand. He nodded and she needed no other permission, fleeing down the street, wondering how one summer destroyed so much.

*

Betty was the last of their friends to come down for dinner in the Great Hall that evening, having been caught by Trev as he passed her the upcoming November prefect schedule once she arrived at Hogwarts. That led to them discussing how the new first years were adjusting.

Everyone was at the Gryffindor table for a change, at the edge and nearest to the Hall doors. She was able to slip in and sit on the bench beside Jughead and Kevin, while Veronica and Archie sat opposite.

“What did I miss?” she asked. Jughead immediately reached for an empty plate and began sliding potatoes and vegetables on it for her, and she sent him a grateful look.

Kevin was eyeing the couple next to him, lips pressed tight against what he wanted to say, but Betty glanced up and caught his eyes and he said instead, “Archie was just telling us how he’s going to some super-exclusive music program next summer.”

Betty’s eyes cut to her redheaded friend, who modestly shrugged. “Maybe. If it happens, though, it would be huge for me.”

Jughead joined the conversation, passing the plate to Betty who carefully selected chicken for her meat option. “Do you have to audition for it?”

Archie looked vaguely conflicted but shook his head. “Well, not exactly. Mrs. Blossom came by earlier and said she’d put a good word in for me.”

“Amazing,” said Kevin, deadpanned just as Jughead went, “Terrifying.”

Veronica seemed to agree, crossing her arms and resting them on top of the table. “Uh-huh. What’s she getting out of it?”

Archie squirmed as four sets of eyes bore into him. “I told her I’d take Cheryl to their family’s opening night to the elf wine season thing. I already talked to Valerie, and she’s cool with it.”

Immediately, everyone’s eyes darted down the Gryffindor table to Valerie, sitting with Melody, Reggie, and Moose. She angrily speared a bit of carrot and Betty felt her eyebrows jump to her hairline. _Uh huh, she’s_ real _cool with it, Arch_.

“Cool with you being a gigolo now?” Jughead snarked, and Betty was happy to note he was thinking the same as her.

“I’m doing someone a favor for my music, Jughead,” argued Archie, frowning. “I need to make connections outside of Hogsmeade, and Celestina Warbeck is going to be there.”

Veronica sighed. “That’s the way of the world. It’s all about connections. But Jughead’s right. These kinds of favors always come with a price tag.”

Archie, clearly not expecting his friends to be nothing but supportive, turned to the blonde sitting directly opposite. He leaned forward over the table a little bit and implored, “Betty, back me up here.”

Betty bit her lip. She did want to support him with his music career, but she did find it suspicious as hell with the timing. And well... _Blossoms_.

“I think it’s a great idea,” she finally said, realizing something important.

Both Jughead and Veronica shot her confused and surprised looks, Veronica even going so far to mouth at her, _What?_

“Thank you, Betty,” breathed out a relieved Archie, leaning back on the bench.

Betty nodded. “Yeah, and while you’re there, would you talk to Polly for me? I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Jughead snorted next to her.

“Definitely,” replied Archie, who didn’t hear his other friends’ response.

Betty beamed at her friend, not above using her own friendly spark to encourage Archie to do something for her. “Thank you.”

Archie grinned back, turning to his side to speak to the other witch in his life, “And don’t worry, Ronnie, I can take care of myself.”

Veronica levelled a disappointed stare at him before shaking her head, lifting her fork with a bit of veg on it. “Famous last words, Archiekins.”

The five remained tense, to the point where conversation was stilted. Finally, Betty ventured to Veronica, “Have things sorted out for the Halloween dance?”

Unfortunately, Archie heard. He put his utensils down hard, and announced, “You know, I think I’m going to go sit with Val and Reggie. Later.”

The remaining four looked at each other and then watched Archie move down the Gryffindor table, where Reggie and Moose made room for him, but Val and Melody were decidedly less welcoming.

“Well,” said Kevin finally. “I don’t see that lasting much longer.”

Betty clamped her mouth shut, glancing at Veronica.

Her friend replied with a shrug. “I’m all Pussycat now, B. I’m going to assume that Val is helping Archie with his song for the dance, because she hasn’t come to Pussycat practice.”

“Speaking of practices,” added Betty, “What’s going on with Dragon practice? It’s been cancelled last minute or not scheduled at all for nearly two weeks.”

Veronica shrugged again, while Kevin’s head zipped back and forth. “I’m guessing Cheryl is a bit busy with other things.”

“Like her brother’s death?” asked Jughead mockingly. “Or the fact her father may be a drug lord? Involved in an illegal potions smuggling business?”

Kevin’s mouth dropped open. “Wait – _what_? When did all this happened?” his head swiveled to Betty, his eyes accusing. “And how do I not know about it?”

Betty shot a glare at her acerbic boyfriend. “Because we have _no proof_.”

“Then where did this all come from?” asked Veronica, eyes wide.

Jughead, realizing he put his foot in it, hunched over his plate and mumbled, “We have... theories.”

“Theories,” deadpanned Veronica, sharing a glance with Kevin, who rolled his eyes.

From beside him, Betty could see the part of his ear not covered by his dark hair turn red in embarrassment.

Jughead cleared his throat, nodding firmly. “Theories.”

“Uh huh,” replied Kevin, amusement in his eyes, but he took pity on the Slytherin and launched into an account of his weekend, including far too many details of what he and Joaquin got up to, taking the Knight Bus into London.

Veronica “mmhmm’ed” in all the right parts, and Betty bobbed her head along, but Jughead kept his eyes down and forward on his plate, his mouth too full for comment. Eventually, Betty cut a glance at her boyfriend and felt her heart twist.

“I think we’re going to go for a walk before curfew,” she announced, grabbing Jughead’s hand under the table. Both Kevin and Veronica whistled.

“I’ll see you later in the dorm them,” said Veronica with a kneazle-that-caught-the-snitch grin. “Or maybe I won’t.”

“V!” hissed Betty, standing.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” catcalled Kevin.

Jughead rolled his eyes in response, also standing. “Given what you just described your weekend debauchery as, that wouldn’t be much.”

Veronica burst out laughing, and her laughter rang clearly as they walked away from her and the Great Hall.

“Sorry about that,” gritted out Betty. She loved her friends dearly, but sometimes, they needed filters.

Jughead shrugged. “It’s fine.”

They were not the only ones exiting the Hall for evening pursuits, as many other students were leaving in groups or clusters. Betty spied one distinctive redhead in the crowd, and knowing that Cheryl was – slightly – on their side, tugged Jughead in her direction.

His eyes scanned the hallway, landing on the figure Betty was staring hard at, hoping not to lose as she turned to head down to the dungeons.

“Really?” he asked, but followed again.

“Cheryl!” called Betty, dropping Jughead’s hand and jogging forward a few paces to catch the Slytherin seventh year. “Cheryl, can we have a word?”

The redhead turned, pursing her pouty red lips. She glanced behind at Bunny. “Scat.”

Bunny sighed, casting a glare in Betty’s direction, but turned to continue down to the dungeon.

Cheryl waited until she left, eyes watching her carefully before turning to face the Hufflepuff and her fellow dorm mate. “Yes, Betty? What is it?”

Betty took a deep breath. “Polly. Look, I don’t know what kind of Stockholm syndrome bullshit you’ve got on her, but I want to talk to my sister.”

Cheryl frowned. “Let’s not fight. Especially not when we should be celebrating.”

Jughead took a step forward, hand on Betty’s shoulder when she started, eyes wide. “Celebrating? Why? What happened?”

Cheryl’s lips turned up into a genuine smile although her eyes were cruel. “Haven’t you heard? Haler Patel just confirmed it this morning. Polly is having twins!” Her hands came to her chest, clasped together to mimic a prayer. “Bless our Blossom genes!”

Betty staggered and if it weren’t for Jughead’s hand, she would’ve gone into the suit of armour. “And she didn’t owl or mirror-call to tell me?”

Jughead’s eyes hardened as they turned from a pale Betty to a gloating Cheryl. “Hostages aren’t normally allowed to make outgoing Floos.”

Cheryl met the younger Slytherin’s eyes with a cool gaze of her own.

Betty cleared her throat, trying to regain her stability. Although she still felt shaky, she murmured through bloodless lips, “Can you please just give her a message for me?”

Cheryl stared hard. “As long as it doesn’t upset her.”

 _Fair enough_ , thought Betty, swallowing heavily. “Tell her she should call our mom. She’s trying really hard to hide it, but I can tell she’s really, really hurt and upset.”

Something shifted in Cheryl’s face, and Betty wondered if maybe there was some more drama in the Blossom household that made her sympathetic. “I’ll pass your message along—”

“Thank you,” breathed Betty.

“— _If_ I remember,” finished Cheryl, and all Betty’s goodwill towards the witch evaporated. She clenched her fists together at her side.

“Cheryl,” warned Jughead, voice low.

Cheryl’s blue eyes snapped to him, and there was a wordless conversation going on between the two Slytherins. Betty had seen that type of conversation before – between her mother and grandparents – but never in front of her between two classmates.

She sighed. _Honestly – do Slytherins take lessons on reading facial expressions or something?_

“That was a joke, you hobo,” snapped Cheryl, eventually, moving her eyes from Jughead in a clear dismissal. She turned back to Betty, and smiled sweetly, if not forced. “Of course I’ll give her your message, Betty. But no promises that she’ll care or respond.”

Betty pursed her lips. “That’s all I can hope for.”

“If that’s all?” asked Cheryl, and when Betty nodded, she turned on her heel, striding down into the darkness of the dungeons.

“What a bitch,” muttered Betty once she was gone.

“That’s Cheryl,” replied Jughead with a wry twist of his lips.

Betty grinned at him. “HBIC indeed.”

They began a leisurely stroll along the ground floor of the castle, deciding against the Hogwarts grounds as a fierce wind had blown in earlier, and the heaviness of the clouds indicated the potential for the first snow of the season.

“You seem tense,” said Jughead. “What happened after I left? Did your mom say something?”

“Say something?” Betty groaned. “She went mental.”

“What?” Jughead froze in place and turned Betty around to face him, his eyes scanning her face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“My parents are unbelievable, Jug. Polly is locked up in that house like a character out of Jane Eyre, and what are they doing?” she rolled her eyes, bringing her hands up to clutch at her arms, closing in on herself. “They’re changing each other’s personal wards and destroying property with heavy blasting charms.”

Jughead snorted, dropping his hands from her. “I wish I’d seen that.” She sent him a dirty look, and he quickly schooled his face. “Okay, I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

They turned and started walking again, their feet leading them to the third floor and the Black and Gold office.

“It’s like, you know how, in a time of crisis, people either come together or fall apart? It feels like we’re falling apart,” admitted Betty quietly, pausing in front of the Black and Gold door. She turned to her boyfriend and looked at him. “And the way things are going, pretty soon, the Coopers, we’re not going to exist anymore. And there’s nothing I can do to stop that.”

Jughead frowned, glancing up and down the hall and unlocked the door with his wand. He pulled her in, steering her to the couch. With a firm, but gentle, push, Betty sat on the couch.

He quickly sat next to her. “Betty, don’t do that. Don’t give up. Your family is definitely splintering right now, but it won’t fall apart, because of _you_. Because _you’re_ holding them together.” He reached for her and framed her face in his hands, and she felt cherished.

“You’re so much stronger than all of the white noise. You’re stronger than your mother, you’re stronger than your father. You’re holding this family together. So don’t,” his voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes dropping to her lips as well. “Don’t let go.”

Unsure if he was talking about her family, or them, Betty didn’t know or care. Her answer was the same, either way. “I won’t.”

His mouth then descended on hers. What started as a chaste pres of their lips quickly heated, with her tongue reaching out first to lick at the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth, and her tongue swept in, tasting him.

The move galvanized Jughead; one hand that was framing her face slid to the back of her neck, knotting into her hair to hold her in place. He tore his mouth from hers, instead placing his lips against her neck as he laved attention and kisses to the pale column. Betty tilted her head back to give him better access and moaned.

Seconds later, she was on his lap, straddling it and his other hand crept under her cardigan to touch her bare back, fingers grazing her bra strap.

Jughead’s mouth moved back to her lips, his head angled as he kissed her deeply, breathing in sharply through his nose when she flicked her tongue against his playfully. Without conscious though, her hips moved on his lap and he groaned, the sound vibrating and travelling low in her stomach.

The hand on her back moved down, and then over her jean-clad bum, where it rested heavily. He squeezed and she jumped.

He chuckled into her mouth, and she drew away enough to look at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, lips swollen, and there was a flush across his cheeks and nose. He looked delicious, and she moved her lips from his mouth to his cheek, dragging them across the light stubble to his ear, biting down on his lobe.

His next groan was louder, and she responded by shifting on his lap. His other hand flew down to hold onto her next to his other hand, firmly grabbing her bum and helping her shift into a better position on him.

“Yo, Cooper, I wanted to ask you – _holy snitch balls_!”

Betty and Jughead jumped apart, Betty landing on her side on the couch while Jughead leapt to his feet, both of them staring at the petrified form of Reggie Mantle, eyes wide and mouth open as he stared back at them. His mouth shut and a slow smile grew on his face as his eyes shifted back and forth between the two heavily breathing teens.

“Well, well,” he grinned, eyes landing on Betty as she straightened and sat primly on the couch. Jughead immediately moved to block her from his view. “You two aren’t wasting any time.”

“Shut up, Reggie,” snapped Jughead.

Reggie threw his hands up, still grinning. He moved a few steps to the side, until he was close enough to hook his foot around one of the swivel chairs, dragging it on its wheels toward him. He then sat, a pleased look on his face.

“No harm meant, Jones,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. “But bro – _way_ to _go_.”

“I’m not your bro,” muttered Jughead petulantly, as Betty, feeling more composed, stood up from the couch and asked, “What do you want Reggie?”

“Well, I was going to talk to you about Josie and Val,” he began, but he then leered at her. “But I think I’d much rather talk about you and Jonesy here.”

Jughead grumbled under his breath at the nickname.

“What about Josie and Val?” asked Betty after taking a deep breath.

Reggie waved a negligent hand. “Something about Val and Archie and asking you about him. I wasn’t really paying attention.” Betty sighed, and Reggie began turning in his seat. “So... whatchya up to?”

“Reggie,” ground out Jughead, staring hard at the Gryffindor.

“Did I interrupt something?” Reggie stopped spinning long enough to shoot a wicked grin at Jughead. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?” he resumed spinning. “Sorry, not sorry!”

“Merlin’s saggy balls,” muttered Jughead, and Betty felt a bit sorry for him – usually dealing with Quidheads meant bullying for him, but for her, it was a daily gentle ribbing, and she was used to Reggie Mantle.

“Reggie,” began Betty gently, trying to draw his attention, turning her head from Jughead towards the Quidditch player.

“Whoa,” he said instead, form still as he stared ahead.

Betty trailed her eyes to where Reggie was looking and then sucked in a breath, just as Jughead darted forward and threw himself in front of their murder board, arms stretched wide.

Reggie slowly stood.

“Reggie! Reg!” Betty moved forward and grabbed onto the taller wizard’s arm. “It’s nothing – really – just some stuff Juggie and I are looking into for the Black and Gold—”

Reggie gently shook her off and stared at Jughead, who scowled back silently. Finally, he moved to the side and allowed Reggie to see the board, as well as the names of everyone they thought was involved, including Betty’s own parents and Jughead’s father. His eyes traced the red lines Jughead used for direct connections, as well as the scribbled notes they hastily put up regarding the overheard conversation between Clifford Blossom and Mayor McCoy. Betty cringed, knowing Reggie was dating Josie, or at least, attempting to date her.

“What’s all this?” he asked, and it was the most serious tone Betty had ever heard him use, including the problems with Chuck Clayton.

Jughead sighed. “Our murder board, Reggie.”

Betty stepped forward to his side, looking at Reggie take in their evidence. “Kevin helped; it’s what his father’s board looked like and a bit more with our own investigations.”

“You’re investigating Jason’s death?” there was a funny tone to his voice.

Jughead and Betty glanced at each other. “Yes,” said Jughead, slowly.

“This,” said Reggie, pointing to a small section that didn’t have much red around it – the location of Jason’s body on the map they were using alongside the autopsy report saying he had been killed elsewhere and dumped. “This part of your investigation – what’s this about?”

“We’re trying to figure out what route the killer used to – er, leave – Jason’s body in the Black Lake,” said Betty quietly. “All we could figure is that they either came from and went back to Hogsmeade, or...”

“Greendale,” finished Reggie contemplatively.

“Yeah,” replied Betty. Jughead leaned against the desks resting under the corkboard and crossed his arms.

“Now that you’ve seen it, and you’ve asked your questions, you can go,” he said rudely, but Reggie didn’t move.

“What about this, here?” asked Reggie, leaning forward and tracing his finger down to the note Jughead wrote in point form, in his block capitals: _Jason’s Quidditch jersey + potions + drugs + getaway broom. Old Blossom elf wine mill_. His finger plucked the tight red line. “How’s this connect to his location?”

“They were near each other,” gritted out Jughead reluctantly, uncrossing his arms. “There’s a possibility that Jason was killed by a Serpent, because he failed to complete his drug run.”

“No way,” retorted Reggie with a toss of his head. “Jason wasn’t using – he wouldn’t be around drugs.”

Betty grimaced. “He did, though, Reggie. He was doing a one-time only trip south to make some quick money.” At Reggie’s incredulous stare, she added, “It was for Polly and the baby.” She blinked and amended, “ _Babies_.”

Reggie turned back to the board, his eyes moving around from the location of the getaway broom, to the Black Lake, and the routes around it. “I don’t think it was a Serpent,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” asked Jughead, standing up straight.

“I don’t think it was a Serpent,” repeated Reggie, eyes fixed on one spot in particular. “Those guys are pretty lenient on payment and lost product.”

“ _Excuse me_?” repeated Jughead. Betty would’ve found the dialogue humorous if it weren’t for the serious topic. “And how do you know _that_ , Reggie?”

Reggie shot him a look. “How do you think I get my alcohol and goods for my parties, Sherlock? I get it from them. I know a few of them.”

“You know a few—!” sputtered Jughead.

Reggie ignored him and continued, “I’d bet my Nimbus 3000 that it wasn’t a Serpent.” He shook his head. “No, I think you’re better off looking at – and I just mean _looking_ , Detective Cooper – at Greendale.”

“Why?” Betty’s eyes narrowed on Reggie.

He turned from facing the murder board, eyes catching hers. “You know how my dad has investment in the _Prophet_ , right?”

“And what else?” grumbled Jughead at her side, under his breath.

Reggie ignored him and continued, “A few years ago he was complaining about a freelance reporter asking for funding to do an expose on Greendale. He wanted to go and interview the people living there, get a lay of the land.”

“What happened?” asked Betty, and beside her, Jughead was quietly absorbing the tale.

Reggie shrugged. “He got his money and no one heard from him again. Dad had funded it – not much, a couple hundred galleons and the like – but he was pretty pissed at being swindled out of a great story.”

“What kind of story?” asked Jughead suspiciously.

“The kind that brings attention,” replied Reggie, glancing at the Slytherin. “The reporter was convinced something was wrong with Greendale – people had been going missing and then turning up months later, completely different people. Weird groceries and store purchases being shipped in from Muggle companies.”

Jughead and Betty shared an uneasy glance, especially given the discovery of Clifford Blossom and Mayor McCoy’s monthly meetings, as well as her planner with ‘Greendale’ and ‘payments’ in it.

“Maybe the Serpents really are a red herring,” muttered Jughead, turning back to the board.

“What?” asked Reggie, clearly not having expected to be taken seriously.

Betty stood next to Jughead, eyeing the board as well. “I think I know someone we can ask about Greendale.”

“Oh?” asked Jughead, thoughtfully.

Betty nodded. “And we won’t be investigating the Serpents or antagonizing them, either.”

“Good,” replied Jughead, “And once we know what’s going on with Greendale, we’ll have another avenue to pursue – or something to cross off the list.”

“I’m still here,” said an annoyed Reggie, causing both Betty and Jughead to turn towards him. “You’re welcome.”

Betty beamed at him. “Thank you for this, Reggie.”

Jughead, grudgingly, added, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he grinned, “But remember to talk to Andrews, will you? My work here is done, then. I’ll let you two get back to your canoodling.”

 _Canoodling?_ mouthed Jughead at Betty, who gave a tiny moue of distaste to the word. Reggie ignored their byplay, and instead waved goodbye, leaving them alone in the office.

“One more thing to add to the board,” said Betty, eventually, turning back to Jughead and offering him a piece of parchment and quill.

“And something else to think about,” he sighed, writing _Greendale_ and _No Serpents?_ on it, sticking it with a charm near the town’s location on the map.

“It’s like every time we think we know something—”

“Something else points us in another direction,” finished Jughead with a sigh.

“How is it all connected?” wondered Betty, her brow furrowed.

Jughead reached for her hand. “We’ll figure it out, Betts. Together.”

*

Betty planned on asking Archie about Val, like Reggie asked her to, but after that weekend, Betty was thrown into her classes as October was slowly coming to a close and November meant review before the students returned home for the Yule holidays.

As it happened, Val broke up with Archie quietly the morning of eighteenth, an inauspicious Tuesday, in which Archie caught up with Val leaving the Gryffindor Tower, only for her to tell him that he barely had time for her, when he barely had his own life together. It was witnessed by nearly half the Gryffindor Tower and good chunk of Ravenclaw, and Betty and Veronica learned about it the same time the rumours began flying around at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Overall, as Archie sat with them at Hufflepuff, he didn’t seem too heartbroken.

“It was for the best,” he said that morning, a bit down but eating heartedly. “And she’s right – I’m barely hanging on to my life right now. Even thinking to add in a girlfriend is a bit much.”

“That’s awfully mature of you, Archie,” said Betty, and by the look Jughead gave her, she wasn’t sure if her tone straddled condescension or sympathy (personally, she didn’t care either way).

“Thanks, Betty,” replied Archie, missing her tone completely.

Jughead rolled his eyes.

“How was the party at the Blossoms’ last night?” asked Veronica instead, and Kevin sat up.

“Yes!” he added, “What did Cheryl wear? Was it extravagant? I bet it was – something designed by the Malfoy line, right? Maybe a piece of _Icarus_ , that’s Narcissa Malfoy’s newest collection.”

“I –” stuttered Archie, looking wide-eyed at Kevin beside him, as the taller Gryffindor leaned forward eagerly. “I wouldn’t even know how to tell that, Kev.”

Kevin sat back in disappointment.

“But it was...” Archie trailed off, his eyes skittering from his friends’ to the Slytherin table, where Cheryl was eating breakfast alone.

“It was?” prompted Veronica gently.

“Interesting,” he finally said.

“How so, Arch?” asked Betty; she and Jughead and Veronica sat with their backs to Ravenclaw and Slytherin, while Kevin and Archie sat with their backs to Gryffindor.

Archie shrugged. “I don’t think her family thinks very much of her, for one. They really consider it incapable of handling the family business, despite how smart she is.”

“Jason was probably groomed from the beginning,” said Veronica, knowledgably. “Most Pureblood families prefer a male heir.”

“I guess,” replied Archie, hesitantly. He then turned to Betty. “Oh, and I saw Polly.”

Betty blinked in surprise. “Is she okay?”

Archie nodded. “She’s safe – and – well, I think she’s looking into the Blossoms.”

A smile stretched across Betty’s lips, and Jughead reached for her hand, clasping it in his own and keeping it on his lap under the table. “Good, that’s good.” She turned to Jughead. “I’ll need to tell my mom.”

He nodded, and Veronica eagerly handed her some parchment from her bag, along with a quill. “Do it now! Or else you won’t be able to think of anything else today, and while I don’t think it matters much with Herbology first, it’s Mandrakes.”

Betty made a face, and obediently reached for the parchment and the self-inking quill, writing a note to her mother that was short and quick: _Mom – Archie just told us, he spoke to Polly. She’s safe; she didn’t choose the Blossoms over us, she’s there to spy on them. She’s going to come back to us mom, so have hope! She’s our witch on the inside._

She paused and then added, _We’re going to write this story, and expose the Blossoms, I promise._

Jughead peered over her shoulder, reading what she wrote as she did so, and then mumbled, “Why don’t you ask her to join us? At the Black and Gold? She must be going nuts sitting at home without a job now that your dad changed the wards at the office.”

Betty, in surprise, stared up at him.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s incredibly sweet of you, Jug,” she breathed, eyes sparkling. She turned back to her letter and added, _Why don’t you come write for the Black and Gold? Jug suggested it and we both want you here, helping us. This is your story, too._

She signed off her name with a flourish, and rolled up the parchment, passing the quill back to Veronica.

“I’ll take this to the Owlery,” offered Jughead, reaching for his bag at his feet and the parchment. “I want to go to the library before class anyway.”

“Are you sure? Do you want company?” asked Betty.

He shook his head. “Nah. Thanks though.”

He leaned down and they kissed, their lips just lingering enough and his sticky with the maple syrup from his pancakes; and then he was walking away from the Hufflepuff table.

Betty’s eyes fluttered open – when had she closed them? – and saw Veronica and Kevin grinning at her with bright, wide smiles. She blushed furiously under their stares.

“What?” she muttered.

Archie, across from her, cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, you may or may not know this, but it’s Jughead’s birthday on Saturday.”

Betty felt the euphoric buzz from the kiss quickly leave her. “What? And he didn’t say anything?”

Archie shook his head. “He doesn’t like making a big deal out of it. Every year, he used to a double feature at the Twilight. It’s like this tradition. Last few years, I’ve been his movie-buddy. But now that he has a girlfriend—”

Betty sat up straight, her voice firm. “Well, of course, I’ll take him. But you should still come with us. This was your tradition.”

“No,” laughed Archie, a bit uncomfortably while Kevin and Veronica watched silently. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Come on,” wheedled Betty, “We’re still your friends. It’ll be like old times!”

He rolled his eyes. “The Three Musketeers.”

Kevin interjected, “Actually, Archie, there were four Musketeers.”

Archie stuck his tongue out at Kevin while Veronica hid a smile behind a manicured hand. “Thanks for reminding me, Kev. Anyway, I’ll see you later, Betty, Ronnie.”

Veronica gave a tiny wave and Betty said, “Okay.”

Archie, too, then quickly left the Great Hall, despite the fact that the four remaining friends would be sharing their first class together.

“What are you going to do with the Twilight gone?” asked Kevin, turning back to Betty.

She shrugged. “His birthday is on the weekend, right? Maybe we’ll take the Knight Bus to London.”

Veronica’s face lit up. “Yes! You must! I know a _fantastic_ restaurant in Diagon Alley—”

“Maybe something a bit less flash?” suggested Betty with a grin. “But hold on to that thought for your birthday, V.”

“We could meet up at the Three afterwards,” suggested Kevin. “You, Jughead, V, Archie, myself.” He paused. “Maybe Joaquin.”

Betty shook him an amused look. “And how is that going?”

Kevin flushed and moved his eyes to his plate. “Fine. Perfectly fine.”

There was some gentle ribbing between the two Hufflepuff witches and Kevin, taking them from the Hall to Herbology. Despite Jughead’s claim that taking the note to her mother about Polly would stop her from worrying, Betty found herself stuck on the idea of Jughead’s birthday that upcoming Saturday. He had kept that from her, even though they spent the weekend practically attached at the hip.

 _Does he think that I wouldn’t want to spend more time with him?_ wondered Betty, frowning and tapping her quill in her Defense class between note-taking later on. As soon as her last class of the day (Charms) was done by 5pm, Betty begged off her friends’ attention and used the Honeydukes passage for a change to head into Hogsmeade – and also because it was closer to the main street than the Shack was.

Betty knew that FP, Jughead’s father, was working with Archie’s father on and off since the middle of September; but he joined the crew permanently after Moose was Imperiused – which Betty was now beginning to suspect was as a form of protection for those on Andrews Construction. With that in mind, Betty turned left instead of right, heading for the old Twilight Drive-In site.

Upon arrival, she saw a few wizards standing around, one being Mr. Andrews in flannel; another wore traditional wizard’s robes, but a majority of those on the site wore Muggle clothing.

 _I wonder if it’s because it’s manual labour,_ she thought, eyes looking for a tall scruffy figure. _Because most of them are Muggleborn?_

 She drew closer, catching the wizard's attention. One catcalled at her, and she flushed, realizing that in her haste to venture to the construction site, she remained in her Hogwarts uniform and Hufflepuff colours, with only a winter coat on top.

“Oi, knock it off – that’s my son’s best friend,” cautioned Fred, turning to her. He smiled and waved. “Hi Betty. What brings you by here with us old folks?”

“I was looking for Mr. Jones, actually, Mr. Andrews,” said Betty as she drew up in front of him, resisting the urge to swish back and forth as her manners kicked in. She always liked Mr. Andrews, and she liked him even more for never giving in to her mother’s harsh demands and allowed her to keep her friendship with Archie.

“FP?” Fred asked, surprised. He blinked, and then slowly nodded. “He’s in the trailer. Go on up.”

“Thank you,” she replied, turning to the construction trailer just off by the road, bounding up the wooden stairs to enter.

The trailer was long and portable, but entirely filled with filing cabinets, two desks, and a long bench near the back with hooks. One some of the hooks were a few jackets and robes, and Betty guessed they were for the workers, cubbyholes for their lunches and a change of clothes. There was also a small table tucked into the far corner, near the bench and cubby, with four chairs tucked in; several jackets were on top of the table, and one draped across the back.

The man she had met earlier that previous weekend – the tall scruffy looking man that was all Jones and something Jughead shared – was reading over some notes on a clipboard, dressed in Muggle wear (which Betty thought odd and surprising given that he was a Pureblood).

“Mr. Jones?” she called, although his back was to her.

Absently, he replied, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Betty cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. Jones, hi, I’m Betty Cooper.” She saw his back stiffen, and he whirled around in surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. She continued, “Jughead’s –”

“—Girlfriend, yeah, I remember,” he said slowly, putting down the clipboard.

Betty summoned her best smile, but it trembled a bit in nervousness on her lips. “Great, well, I came by because it’s Jughead’s birthday on Saturday, and I wanted to see if maybe you would come join us for dinner, or a movie?”

He stared at her, and then looked around the small work space in bafflement. “Does he know you’re here talking to me?”

Betty winced. “No, I thought maybe I’d surprise him.”

FP ran a hand over his mouth in surprise and as a way to think of the best response. Betty shifted on her feet. Finally, FP sighed. “Oh, man. There’s one thing that Jughead likes less than surprises, and that’s his birthday. Kid’s never even had a party, never wanted one—”

“What? Never?” Betty’s mouth dropped.

FP nodded slowly. “Mmhmm. Anyway, I think the best gift that I could give to Jughead would be to stay away.” He paused, looking a bit pained, but then hardened his face as resolution settled in. “But I appreciate you coming by, Betty.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes dropping to the ground. “Okay.”

She turned, ready to leave the trailer and use the passage back to Hogwarts. Just as she turned the doorknob, FP’s hand came out and pushed on the wood. She looked up at FP who loomed behind.

 “Listen, you’re not heading back to Hogwarts by yourself, are you?” His eyes narrowed on her. “You came with Fred’s kid or Jug, right?”

“Erm...” Betty felt a blush spread across her cheeks.

FP muttered under his breath, “There’s a _murderer_ loose and my son’s girlfriend decides that sneaking out from the most protected building in all the magical world is a good idea?”

Embarrassment crept over her. “Well, I wasn’t thinking I’d be gone too long...”

He eyed her. “Uh huh.” He turned back to the middle of the trailer, grabbing a discarded leather jacket from the back of a chair. He slung it on, and Betty had an image of what he might have looked like when he was a Hogwarts student in black robes. “Come on – I’ll walk you to... which passage did you use?”

“Honeydukes,” she squeaked.

“I’ll walk you to Honeydukes and create a distraction so you can get into the cellar,” he sighed, but his voice was tinged with amusement.

“Thanks,” she said, and together they left the trailer. Fred stood with a few of the same wizards from earlier, and FP waved a goodbye to him, calling loudly, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Fred eyed the two of them, but nodded and waved his own goodbye, turning back to his conversation.

“Why did he never have a birthday?” asked Betty, unexpectedly. It caused FP to jump in surprise.

FP shrugged. “He had birthday parties when he was young – you might even remember one or two when Mrs. Weasley baked him a cake – but once he hit six or so, he wasn’t interested in them.”

Betty thought hard, trying to remember a specific instance of cake for Jughead – but Mrs. Weasley baked cake for a lot of the little witches and wizards under her care and the specifics of whose birthday they were celebrating all rolled into one long party in her mind.

“Eventually he just wanted to see some movies at the Twilight,” continued FP, with a tiny smile on his face.

“Archie said that they would go for a double-feature every year,” agreed Betty slowly. “But with the Twilight gone—”

FP sighed deeply. “Yeah, Jug’ll be right pissed about that.”

“He went on a rant,” confirmed Betty, glancing at FP and grinning.

He grinned back, and barked a quick laugh. “That’s my boy.”

“I’m guessing you’re the type of witch to have a plan A through F?” asked FP as they drew up along Honeydukes, which was bursting with warmth and colour against the quickly descending darkness in Hogsmeade.

“I do,” replied Betty. “Probably take the Knight Bus into London for a film and then return here for dinner at the Three Broomsticks.”

“I think he’ll like that.” FP reached and opened the door, gesturing for Betty to go first. They entered and warmth coated them, both sighing as they moved away from the cold of October. They moved towards a display of Blood Pops, both making faces.

“I always hated those things,” revealed FP, eyes moving until they found something else he liked. “Now these—!” he picked up a box of sugar quills.

He cleared his throat and looked down at Betty. “Now – Betty – I’m going to go stumble into that display over there—” her eyes involuntarily went to the large stack of Chocolate Frog boxes, piled high and neatly in the shape of a tree, nearly as tall as her “—and make a scene. If you stay here, you’ll be able to sneak behind the counter and down into the cellar quickly. Okay?”

“Got it,” she whispered, and moved away from him, back towards the front of the shop. Somewhere behind, she heard a loud swear and the sound of hundreds of boxes shifting and hitting the floor. The shopkeeper cried out, “MY DISPLAY!” and as soon as his back was turned, she darted behind the counter. Just before she started down the storage steps, she caught FP’s eyes and he winked at her.

Her return to Hogwarts was short, but filled with much to think about.

*

Betty spent much of dinner that evening pondering over FP’s words about Jughead and his birthday, barely listening to Veronica detail her own thoughts about Archie’s last revelation that he failed to share with her and Jughead: that Clifford Blossom had something to do with information getting to the Aurors for Hiram Lodge’s arrest.

“Anyway, enough about my drama,” finished Veronica with a flail of her fork, nearly sending drops of pasta sauce on Kevin, who leaned back quickly. “Betty, you were saying something about Jughead’s birthday?”

Caught daydreaming, Betty flushed and turned back to the conversation, looking up from her own pasta dish for dinner that night. “Yeah. Just that Mr. Jones told me Jughead’s never had a birthday party.”

Veronica gasped. “Let’s have one for him. Like, a low-key surprise party!”

Archie’s face was a picture of surprise and alarm. “Uh, no, no.”

“It’s a fantastic idea,” argued Veronica, turning to the redhead sitting next to Betty, in Jughead’s usual spot – except he was in the library, again.

“Jughead doesn’t like his birthday,” argued Archie, frowning.

Veronica brushed aside the comment. “Everybody says that, nobody means it.”

Kevin, sensing something underlying Archie’s words, hesitantly said, “You guys, Jughead is a lone wolf... he might actually not like his birthday.”

“Okay. Ignoring the negativity,” Veronica levelled a hard glare at both Kevin and Archie, turning instead to the only other female at the Hufflepuff table with them in their cluster. “Betty, you know me, - any excuse to wear a cute party dress.”

Betty sent her a tiny grin. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so I’m thinking a quaint gathering, inner-circle only,” continued Veronica, eyes glazing over as she turned her thoughts inward.

“ _Merlin_ , don’t turn around.”

At Kevin’s words, everyone froze, and Betty and Archie turned around, facing the Gryffindor table and the entrance of the Great Hall. Framed by the doors, Chuck Clayton strode back into Hogwarts dressed in his Hogwarts uniform of black trousers and green Slytherin sweater. The Hall went quiet, and then whispers began to spread up and down the tables, including theirs, as he strode by Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, with nary a glance.

“Holy Chuck, I think his lats got bigger,” whispered Kevin.

“You can’t see his lats from here,” said Archie mulishly.

Kevin frowned, and, catching Betty and Veronica’s eyes, he hastily added, “An excellent point, thank you Archie. Even more importantly, I don’t care, because he’s evil incarnate.”

“What’s Chuck Clayton doing back?” asked Veronica, turning to follow his progress. He stopped by the Ravenclaw table, and then began walking between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw aisle.

“He got suspended, not expelled,” said Kevin, watching as he came closer and then passed them, with a quick glance and smirk at Betty. “Even though he should have been drawn and quartered for what he did.”

She clenched her hands under the table.

“Oh, Merlin,” muttered Veronica, as Chuck stopped behind one particular Ravenclaw. Without thinking, Betty had rose from the table and clamber over top, resulting in both Kevin and Archie leaping to their feet, shouting after her for upsetting Kevin’s pumpkin juice.

Chuck had slid onto the bench, next to Ethel, who was firmly looking forward at her dinner plate, while he had both his elbows on the table and legs spread, facing out from Ravenclaw. His head was turned towards her and he was speaking lowly to Ethel. She was shaking or nodding her head along to what he was saying.

“Get away from her, Chuck!” Betty trembled in front of him, and her trembling intensified when he ran a lazy eye from her shoes to her ponytail.

“Easy. Look, I only came over here to apologize,” he said insolently, in a long drawl that made Betty want to run straight to the Prefect’s bath. “You don’t have to go Dark Betty on me again.”

Betty blanched. _What – how – we used Polyjuice –!_

She grit her teeth and ground out, “I’m not going! I’m not going Dark anything – I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned her eyes to Ethel’s back. “Ethel, is Chuck bothering you?”

Slowly, the redheaded Ravenclaw turned, her curls bouncing a bit as she did so. Her face was lined with tension, but her voice was honeyed as she said, “You can relax, Betty, it’s fine.”

Chuck grinned, his teeth a bright white. “Yeah, Betty, we’re fine. The real question is, _are you_?”

Betty’s eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure if she believed Ethel and wondering how Chuck could insinuate anything about the night at Reggie’s.

Eventually, she turned and took the long walk around the Hufflepuff table, feeling not only her friends’, but Trev’s and Ambrose’s and Adam’s concerned eyes on her too, until she reached her seat next to Archie, which she slid back in to.

“What was he doing? Accosting her?” demanded Veronica, sending a fierce glare and barring her teeth over her shoulder at him.

Betty shook her head. “No, he was—” she bit her lip in confusion “—apologizing.”

“Oh, I’m so sure,” Kevin added with an eye roll, in loyalty to his friends.

“Chuck Clayton doesn’t have a contrite bone in his muscle-bound body,” snapped Veronica.

There was a buzzing in her ears, and Betty couldn’t help but feel that she missed something important of Chuck and Ethel’s aborted conversation. She felt her nails dig into her palms and warmth spread under them as she broke the skin.

“You know what, can we talk about something else?” she attempted to speak airily, affected a blasé tone. Archie shot her a glance that said she didn’t fool him. “Like--Like Jughead’s surprise party.”

Kevin choked on his drink and dribbled a bit over his chin, and Veronica blinked in surprise, rocking back a bit in her seat. “Betty?”

“Look, there’s a lot I can’t do, a lot I can’t control,” began betty, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, hoping her voice didn’t tremble. “But I can damn well make sure my boyfriend has the best birthday of his life.”

There was silence as her three other friends processed her words, with Kevin staring at Betty like he had never quite seen her before, and Veronica frowning deeply, peering at her friend as though she were a Sphinx to decode. However, it was Archie who tipped the balance.

He slammed his pumpkin juice down hard on the wooden table, drawing all their attention. “Fuck it. I’m with Betty. My dad’s away. We can do it at my house. We could all use a good time.”

A slow smirk curled its way up Veronica’s mouth. She glanced once more at Betty, and then at Kevin who shrugged. She finished by turning back to Archie and purring, “ _Now_ you’re talking my language.”

She raised her goblet, and Archie quickly followed. Betty lifted hers next, and with a long-suffering sigh, Kevin followed last.

Archie grinned at his friends. “It’s gonna be _epic_.”

*

_Nevertheless, some of us strive to impose and maintain order in what is, fundamentally, an orderless world._

_A fact, which would very soon be confirmed in ways none of us could have foreseen._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is already done, as well; I'm probably going to finish chapters 21 and 22 at some point today and tomorrow. 
> 
> I have a job interview to teach at a college on Thursday, so I'm going to focus a bit more on that (although I know I won't get it, and honestly, between potentially writing a chapter on Riverdale for an anthology and for a conference in march, I might not have time to teach + my own research).
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying as we gear up for the climax (which is already written!), as well as the wind down to the final chapters of this story. Remember to drop by on [Tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com) and tell me what you think ;)


	20. Ouroboros

*

XX: Ouroboros

*

“Life is _locomotion_. If you’re not moving, you’re not living. But there comes a time when you’ve got to stop running away from things and you’ve got to start running towards something. You’ve got to forge _ahead_. Keep moving, even if your path isn’t lit. Trust that you’ll find your way.”   
– _The Flash_ , “The Flash (New 52)”, Vol. 1, issue 1

*

_Winter had come early to Riverdale, brutal and unforgiving. But it would be nothing compared to the storm that was gathering._

_A storm of chaos named Cheryl Blossom._

*

The remainder of the week went by quickly, and Betty found herself at home Friday afternoon, at the dining room table with a parchment filled with notes on things for Jughead’s birthday the next evening. She was busy jotting down recipes for them to eat, when her mother breezed in to the kitchen and dining area, a wide smile on her face.

“Great news, Betty!” she began the conversation, shrugging off her lavender robes onto one of the chairs to reveal a crisp button up tucked into a matching lavender pencil skirt. “I just had a terrific meeting with Headmistress McGonagall, who agrees that the Black and Gold can benefit greatly from my professional guidance - as your new advisor with Professor Adams.”

Betty grinned up at her. “That’s great, Mom.”

Alice paused, a hand on the back of the chair and robes, glancing down at her. “So what are we working on?”

“A list of supplies for Jughead’s birthday party,” she said absently, scratching out _pecan pie_ and scribbling _cauldron cake_ instead.

There was a pause, and then her mother said, softly, “You’re really falling for this Jones boy, aren’t you?”

There was something odd in her tone that had Betty glancing up, surprise on her face. Her mother was staring down at her – contemplative and serious in a way that she had rarely seen in her life. It was also undeniably sad, which was probably the reason why she asked, “Mom, when you and Dad started dating, did you tell him everything about yourself?”

Alice frowned at the question. Her lips pursed and she sighed, eventually crossing her arms. Her expression changed to something familiar. “I sure did, and I wish I hadn’t. I shared things with your father, my secrets, fears, doubts. And he ended up using them against me.”

 _Secrets?_ thought Betty. “What secrets?”

“Let’s just say,” began Alice slowly, carefully, “that there are some things about myself that I struggle with.”

There was an undercurrent of censure about Betty trusting Jughead, and she wondered vaguely if it had something to do with trust overall – not just her, or Jughead and their relationship, but Polly and Jason, whatever reasons that made her father violently forbid their romance.

With an equal amount of solemnity that her mother showed her, Betty said, “I trust Jughead, Mom.”

A wry smile appeared on Alice’s lips, even though her voice was laced with condescension. “Of course you do. And you should. But just not with everything.”

A bitter flavour settled on Betty’s tongue. She suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere near her mother. Feigning absentmindedness, Betty hastily gathered up her parchment and tucked it against her. “You know what mom? I’m going to go down to the Owl Post and make sure I get these rush orders in for tomorrow.”

Alice eyed her speculatively, but nodded. “All right. Dinner’s at eight, if you’ll be here. Curfew at ten. And not a minute later, Elizabeth!”

Practically racing out of the house, Betty hightailed it into Hogsmeade as quickly as she could. She wasn’t lying about the orders, but she also didn’t want to remain near her mother popping any romantic bubbles regarding her honeymoon period with Jughead.

The Owl Office wasn’t busy, and she was able to finish her list and order form for party supplies inside under the kind eye of the postmaster. Once the order was off, she had several hours before needing to return home, and began aimlessly wandering the main street.

After only a few minutes, walking in the vague direction of the Pembroke, Betty saw a familiar figure with a carryall under his arm. She felt a smile split her face and she called, loudly, “Dad!”

Hal turned at the sound, and a matching grin spread across his. He dropped the carryall, just in time as Betty slammed into him for a hug. His arms closed around her.

“How are you, princess?” he asked, squeezing her.

Betty grinned up at him. “Better now. What are you up to?”

Hal sighed, letting his daughter go and reaching for the carryall. “Moving some more things into the office.”

Betty glanced up and realized they were outside the _Prophet_ Hogsmeade office. She bit her lip. “Do you want some company?”

Hal eyed her. “Things a bit much at home?” When she didn’t answer, he sighed. “C’mon. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Soon, they were inside her father’s office, him on his side and her in the guest chair, cradling a mug of tea in her hands. She eyed his desk, littered with notes and piles of parchment.

“Other articles I’m working on,” he said, glancing at her and noticing her interest. “Nothing relevant to you, since most are Quidditch related.”

Betty made a face.

“How have things been?” he finally asked, reclining back in his office chair.

Betty sighed. “Good and bad.”

“Oh?”

“I’m...” Betty glanced at her father. “I’m seeing someone.”

Hal’s eyebrows shot up. “I feel like I should be surprised, but it’s probably Jughead, isn’t it?”

Betty stifled a swear. _How does everyone know?_ “Yeah. We’re dating. A few weeks, now.”

“Are you happy? Is he treating you well?” asked Hal.

Betty nodded. “It’s been great, dad. He’s great.”

“Good,” said Hal firmly, leaning back again.

“You’re not going to tell me off?” asked Betty, curiously. “Not like when Polly and Jason started dating?”

“Well, you’re not dating Jason Blossom,” said Hal, and despite his reasonable tone, there was an edge to his voice. “Besides, we’ve known Jughead since you were all just out of diapers. He’s a good kid.”

Betty glanced down. “Mom told me that I shouldn’t share everything with him. That he might use it against me.”

Hal snorted. “That’s your mother. I don’t know if you haven’t noticed yet, Betty, but Slytherins are major drama queens. And that includes your mother.”

 _Sounds about right,_ she thought, biting the inside of her cheek.

“A long time ago, your mother told me something, and I...” Hal sighed. “I was young, she was young, and I reacted poorly. It was a big secret she told me, and I ended up making the decision for the both of us. She’s resented me for it, despite things working out.”

“What was it?” asked Betty.

Hal shook his head. “That’s not my secret to tell.” He put his mug down and wrapped his hands around it instead. “Betty – if you truly care for Jughead – do everyone a favour and share things with him. And when you do, talk it out. Don’t keep it bottled up.”

“I won’t,” she promised, and then their conversation turned to other topics, carrying them over the next few hours.

Eventually, Hal pushed back in his chair. “Well, since I don’t have a kitchen, I’m off to the Broomsticks for dinner. Do you want to join me, Betty?”

“Dinner?” she gasped, bolting up. “Is it eight already? Shi— _oooot_. I was going to go find Mr. Jones!”

Hal frowned. “FP? What for?”

Betty hastily picked up her jacket and slung it on, pulling her arms through the sleeves roughly. “It’s Jug’s birthday tomorrow and I wanted to invite him to join us for dinner. He said that Juggie’s never had a birthday before and I want to do something special for him.”

Hal sighed. “Well, I can’t let you go wandering down to the south side of Hogsmeade without me, so... let’s go.”

“Really?” Betty paused.

Hal nodded, reaching for his own coat. “Really.”

The walk down the Hogsmeade street was made in silence, Betty’s father content even as they passed by the train station and over the bridge. Raucous laughter erupted from the Whyte Wyrm as they passed it. Betty eyed the two-storey building and the few wizards who stood outside in its single torchlight, smoking, but he father strode past comfortably.

 _Then again_ , she thought, _he’s broad shouldered and played Beater at Hogwarts. He can take care of himself and still has a quick draw_.

Eventually, Betty led her father through the same path Jughead took her a few weeks previous, and stopped outside the trailer she knew to be the Jones’. A light was on in the living area, so Betty stepped up on the rickety steps and knocked.

As soon as the door opened, and FP peered down at her in shock, Betty quickly launched into a rehearsed spiel. “Mr. Jones, I didn’t mean to ambush you—”

FP sputtered a laugh, and then leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes tripping over her and landing on her father, standing at the foot of the steps. They nodded at each other, and Betty continued.

“I know you don’t do birthdays, but Archie and I are having a few of Jughead’s friends over at Archie’s house,” she said earnestly, widening her eyes. “And I bet it would mean so much to Jughead if you came.”

FP chuckled and shook his head. “Man, you don’t quit, do you?”

“Rarely, if ever,” replied Betty, proudly at the fact. She could feel her father’s amusement behind her as well. “I really want to do something special for him. And you being there — that would be special.”

FP eyed her a bit longer, rubbing his unshaven chin thoughtfully. He then tilted his chin past her, letting his voice carry as he called, “You’ve got a real firecracker here, Hal.”

“She’s a bright ember, all right, FP,” rejoined Hal. “And the more you ignore her, the hotter she’ll burn until she catches your attention.”

“I don’t much like playing with fire,” continued FP, letting the analogy continue, much to Betty’s ire. “Doesn’t mix with my temperament.”

“So, will you come, Mr. Jones?” she asked, breaking into her father and Jughead’s odd conversation. There was a history here that she knew nothing of.

“I thought I asked you to call me FP, Betty,” gently chided the older man. He nodded. “What the hell – just a small party, right? We don’t want to overwhelm Jug.”

“Just a small party, I promise,” replied Betty. “Us, Archie, Veronica, Kevin and his boyfriend. No one else. I’ll cook dinner and I’ll bake a cake.”

“All right.” FP nodded, holding a hand out for her to shake. “You’ve got a deal. I’ll be there.”

Betty beamed up at him. “Eight, sharp. Juggie and I are going to Muggle London for a film first.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” asked Hal, and Betty’s stooped her shoulders sheepishly, realizing she had kept that from her mother for the very reason of overprotective parents.

FP grinned. “Ah, c’mon Hal, I think the kids are responsible enough to not get lost in the big Muggle city.”

Betty turned to her father, eyes wide and pleading. He sighed. “Fine.” He wagged a finger at her. “You’ll get the Knight Bus from the office with me watching, and then FP’ll let me know if you’re both back for this party.”

“Not a problem,” said Jughead’s father, cheerfully, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. Betty glanced back at him, and he winked.

She grinned.

“ _Now_ can we go get dinner, Betty?” asked Hal, a slight whine in his voice.

“Where you two off to?” asked FP.

“Three Broomsticks,” replied Betty. “Would you like to join us?”

FP eyed Hal, who nodded resignedly. “Well, only if I’m not imposing.”

 _He’d best get used to FP,_ thought Betty, smothering a grin. _After all, if Jug and I are going to be together, there’s going to be a_ lot _of opportunities for everyone to get to know each other better._

*

As promised, Betty and Jughead met up in front of the Daily Prophet’s Hogsmeade office, with her father standing just inside the open door, watching as Betty hailed the Knight Bus with her wand.

“Which theatre are you going to, again?” he asked sternly, arms folded.

“Leicester Square,” answered Betty with a long-suffering sigh, having answered the same question three different times, in three different ways.

“What time is the film?”

“At twelve twenty,” she sighed.

“What film?”

“We’re seeing a double feature,” she continued, monotone. “ _An American Werewolf in London_ , and then _Psycho_. It’s a Halloween special.”

Hal’s stern look didn’t fade, even as a puff of purple smoke and a bang announced the arrival of the bus.

Jughead held out the money for the passage, and then stepped on, glancing back at Betty, who looked at her father. “Dad. It’ll be fine. I’ll see you later!”

He turned his eyes on Jughead, who froze. No threat was necessary, as Jughead read his message loud and clear. He helped Betty up and then they found a spot, clinging to a post after their other trip to St. Mungo’s.

The Bus had them as the fourth stop, and they were grateful upon exiting at a convenient alleyway that hid their arrival from non-magical eyes. Dressed in street clothes, both Betty and Jughead looked like two normal teenagers going out on a date. Both were familiar enough with non-magical money, and were deftly able to make their way to the cinema, and purchase their tickets as well as popcorn and a drink.

They found free seats near the back of the theatre, setting in. Previews flashed across the screen, but the main trailers had not yet come on. Jughead stretched his arm across the back of Betty’s seat and she settled in lower, grinning against the straw of their drink.

“Hey, I was talking to Kevin,” he started slowly, glancing at her. “He told me that you and Chuck had some scene in the Great Hall on Wednesday.”

Betty stiffened, eyes firmly ahead on the screen. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“What exactly happened between you guys that night?”

Betty glanced at him, the light from the screen reflecting on her face. “Veronica asked me to keep the details under wraps, okay?”

Jughead frowned. “Yeah. All right. No worries.” Betty knew her response was a bit terse, so she turned a bit in her seat and leaned into his arm. Jughead was a bit more hesitant when he continued, “I only really asked because you made it sound like you were upset.”

“If I was upset about anything, it was that I had to hear about your birthday from Archie and not you, Jug,” she teased.

He sighed. “Yeah, well I didn’t think you were an _American Werewolf_ kind of girl.”

The lights in the theatre began to darken, and Betty grinned, facing forward again, despite feeling his eyes on her. She thought back on the night at Reggie’s and what she did to Chuck. “Ooh. That’s where you’re wrong, Jughead Jones. I’m _all_ about the beast within.”

*

Betty opened the door to Archie’s first, taking note of the darkened rooms. _So far, so good,_ she thought, giddy with happiness.

She stepped in and Jughead followed, grumbling. “Why aren’t you turning the lights on, Betts? Honestly, it’s just one _lum_ —”

“SURPRISE!”

Jughead started and stared in horror at their friends – Archie jumped up from behind the sofa with Veronica, while Kevin and Joaquin turned the corner from the kitchen into the living room. He slowly turned to face Betty, who beamed back at him.

“This is why we left the double feature?” he muttered to her, eyes wide and looking vaguely pissed.

Betty felt the first unease stir in her stomach.

“Happy birthday, bro!” Archie cheered, coming forward and grabbing Jughead into an embrace, clapping him on the back.

Betty, still nearby, heard Jughead whisper, almost frantically, “You really shouldn’t have,” and caught Archie’s expression of flushed surprise over his shoulder. As Archie pulled away, Jughead’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh, you reek. Are you drunk?”

“ _Noooooo_ ,” drawled Archie, stepping back quickly a few giant steps.

 _Hippogriff dung,_ she thought darkly, turning her eyes to Veronica who was supposed to be keeping an organized eye on things as the co-host.

Instead, the newest member of their circle stepped forward, and hugged Jughead, speaking rapidly in Spanish.

Jughead’s lips twisted into an aborted smile. “Uh, thanks, Veronica.” He swept his eyes over the small group in awkwardness. “Thanks, everyone.”

Kevin stepped up, handing a bottle of Butterbeer to Jughead who took it automatically. “Happy birthday, bud,” he said, then turning to gesture at the long-haired teen that looked very familiar to Jughead – Betty saw his eyes narrow. “This is my boyfriend, Joaquin.”

Jughead stretched out a hand and the two shook it, eyes fixed firmly on one another. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

As they did this, Betty snuck into the kitchen and used her wand to light the sixteen candles on the cake she baked earlier. She slipped her hands under the tray, just as she heard Jughead’s panicked voice ask, “Um, has anyone seen Betty?”

She took a careful step forward, then another, and another, until she was in the living room, and everyone turned to face her. She began to sing, her voice low and melodic, her eyes on Jughead’s face. The closer she got, though, the easier it was for her to see how terrified and uncomfortable he was.

When she finished, he cleared his throat uncomfortably and haltingly said, “That was... haunting, Betty.”

“Blow out the candles and make a wish,” she urged, the tiny flutters of anxiety beginning to flutter harder in her stomach at his expression.

He sighed, turned to her and whispered, “I wish it were just the two of us right now,” but obediently blew out the candles in one giant blow.

Everyone cheered, and Archie hollered, “One blow!”

Betty and Veronica returned to the kitchen, cutting up the cake and putting them on six small plates already put aside for this moment. Betty took a deep breath, trying to slice through but her hand was shaking.

“B, what’s wrong?” whispered Veronica, eyes on her friend.

“His face,” muttered Betty, putting the knife down. “Merlin, did you see his face? He doesn’t want this.”

“Everyone wants a birthday party,” reiterated Veronica, but the words were uneasy. She too had seen how uncomfortable Jughead had looked, and Archie had already snuck into the Odgen’s under her watch.

Betty shook her head. “I don’t think he does.”

The two shared an uneasy look that was only broken by a loud knock on the front door. Both turned, and they heard Kevin exclaim, “What are _you_ doing here?”

A sickeningly sweet voice answered him. “I heard there was a party, and no one throws a party without inviting Cheryl Blossom.”

Veronica and Betty’s shared look of concern morphed into horror, and both girls raced from the kitchen to see Cheryl and Chuck Clayton standing in the foyer, a Mexican standoff between them and Archie, while Jughead stood frozen at the halfway point, with Kevin and Joaquin to the side.

Betty could see a crowd beginning to grow behind the two Slytherins, on the Andrew’s front porch.

“Ah, what the hell,” said Archie, stepping back.

Betty’s mouth dropped open, her eyes darting to Jughead. His face went hard, and then there were  a swarm of Hogwarts students piling into the living room and she lost sight of him. Dilton dragged the coffee table to the corner by the bay window and levitated a gramophone, Moose carried in a keg, then there was pounding music, and the lights were cut.

Frozen, Betty could only watch in disbelief as her small birthday party for Jughead was hijacked. It wasn’t until she was bumped into that she stumbled back but a hand caught her grip and hauled her to the side. She looked up and saw Reggie peering down at her.

“What the hell is going on?” she snapped at him, glancing out at the crowd with quickly writhing teenagers.

“I was hoping _you_ could tell _me_!” snapped the Gryffindor. “I was all for a quiet date night with Josie when Cheryl appeared at the Three Broomsticks telling her best girlfriend that she’s throwing a party at Archie Andrews! _Archie’s_! _My_ roommate! _And_ Quidditch captain! I think I would know if he were throwing a party!”

“ _He’s not_ ,” cried Betty in dismay. “ _I_ was, for Jughead! It’s his birthday.”

Reggie stared at her a moment and then swore violently. “They planned this.”

“They must have,” replied Betty morosely. “And worse...” she trailed off, Reggie staring down at her. “I think Chuck _knows_.”

“He can’t,” replied Reggie immediately. “We made sure nothing was a loose end. He doesn’t know shit.”

Betty shook her head, overwhelmed. “He said something the other day –”

“In the Great Hall when he came back?” interrupted Reggie. “When he was talking to Ethel?”

Betty nodded.

Reggie swore again and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it. His eyes swept the room, finding Cheryl dancing against Moose and Chuck prowling the corners of the room, his eyes also searching for someone. He pulled Betty further into the corner of the room, closer to the kitchen.

“Look, just... stay out of his way for as long as you can, okay?” muttered Reggie. “I’m going to try to rally the Quidditch players I know and the ones who are involved in the Oaths.”

Feeling weary, Betty nodded and slunk around Reggie, into the kitchen. She stood braced against the countertop, Jughead’s birthday cake barely cut and discarded. She was staring at it when he appeared in the kitchen, stopping short when he saw her.

“Oh, sorry. Just coming to get ice cream, so,” he trailed off, glancing at her. “Is everything okay?”

Betty shook her head. “Yeah, no, I’m just not in a party mood like I usually am.”

He nodded, and said lowly, “That makes two of us.”

Incredulous, Betty turned to him. She had _planned_ it all out. She put time and effort into the planning of his party – and yes, it was taken over, but that wasn’t her fault! “Whoa. Wait. You’re not actually upset that I threw you a party, are you?”

Jughead bit his lip and rolled it around, carefully thinking on how to answer. Finally, he sighed and said, “It is nice, Betty. I appreciate it. It’s just I would be happier if it was just the three of us in a booth at the Three Broomsticks.”

 _That does sound nice..._ she winced at the sound of something breaking. “Yeah. But we always do that. I wanted to do something special for you.”

Jughead stared at her, and then quoted, “‘ _The road to hell is paved with good intentions_.’”

Betty stared back at him, dumbfounded. “ _Seriously_?” she asked, disbelief coating her words. “Why is everything so doom and gloom with you, Jug? Why can’t it just be normal for once? Why can’t you just go with the flow?”

“I’m not normal, I’m not wired to be normal,” he snapped back, and it was the first time she ever heard him lose his temper at her. It made her take a step back, push herself against the counter some more.

Her mouth opened, but no words escaped. She ended up shaking her head and leaving the kitchen, mindful of Reggie’s words to stick to the edges of the party. She travelled down the hallway, spotting Kevin and Joaquin lingering by the bottom of the stairs near the front door and moved towards them.

A large figure blocked her. She glanced up and nearly turned around.

“Betty.” Chuck stared down at her. “You going to cast some Dark magic on me again?”

Betty’s heart pounded hard against her chest. _It doesn’t matter what Reggie says! He knows! Chuck_ knows _._

 _“_ No, Chuck, I’m going to ask you to leave,” said Betty, taking a deep breath. _Don’t admit to anything_ , she thought furiously, “Nicely.”

“Nicely? Because, what, you’re back to being the nice witch now?” Chuck scoffed. “Betty, what you and Veronica did – when you guys got me kicked off the Quidditch team, you ruined any chance I had of playing for Puddlemere United. Hell, for any professional team.”

Anger rose quickly and sharp in Betty. “I’m sorry that after you sexually harassed those girls, spreading rumours about them. I’m sorry that there were actual consequences, Chuck.”

Unfazed, the taller Slytherin leaned down and close – right in Betty’s face. She took a small step back, leaning away, but she froze when his breath wafted across her face, smelling distinctly like mint and fire whiskey. “That night, I saw the real you, the _dark_ you. That’s the Betty I think about every night when I’m laying in bed.”

“You fucking prick,” she breathed.

Before he could say anything else, a large hand grabbed him and swung him around. Betty watched as FP stood before her, glowering at the student. “I really hope I didn’t hear you correctly, there.”

“Nah, man,” said Chuck, brushing FP’s hands off him, and stepping back into the crowd of teenagers. “Betty and I are cool.” He glanced at her. “Right, Betts?”

The nickname was enough. Without apologizing – or thanking – FP, she turned and rushed down the hallway, around into the kitchen and out the side door, stumbling down the backyard steps and towards the separate garage.

Far from the noise of the party in the Andrew’s, Betty sighed gratefully and wondered how she would be able to show her face at Hogwarts on Monday. This was worse than when Cheryl put Archie and Veronica in the grotto for seven minutes in heaven, with everyone knowing her crush on her redheaded childhood friend. This was potentially her and Veronica going to Azkaban; and worse, Kevin, as the Head Auror’s son, was involved – including his gang member boyfriend.

The doors to the garage were open, and she stepped inside, stilling when she saw Jughead seated in an old, beaten armchair. He had a sullen expression on his face, almost glowering. One hand was wrapped around an untouched bottle of Butterbeer, and the other was playing with Vegas, Archie’s half-breed krup and golden retriever.

He glanced at her, and then the party going on behind her. She spotted a nicely wrapped blue gift on the workbench behind Jughead. “You do know my dad has a drinking problem, right?”

“Of course I do. I didn’t think people would be drinking tonight,” retorted Betty, as the last time they were at the trailer, the littering of empty bottle and cans told her enough. “I didn’t plan on Chuck and Cheryl, and the rest of the school crashing, okay? This was supposed to be just your friends.”

Jughead scoffed, standing from the chair. “You and Archie are my friends, okay? Everyone else, including Kevin, including Veronica, are people that, two months ago—” he took a deep breath, “— I would’ve actively shunned.”

Stunned, Betty’s mouth dropped open. _But – you get along with Kev and V..._ “Why?”

Jughead looked at her, broodingly, and hugged his arms to himself in a half-hug, half-crossed position. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in, and I don’t _want_ to fit in.” He jerked his hand towards his head, pointing at his hat. “Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s _weird_.”

Her unease from earlier as well as Reggie’s caution and Chuck’s very recent cornering of her boiled over. Frustrated, she asked, nearly in tears, “Why are you getting so upset? It’s just a party, Jug.”

“It’s not _just_ a party. It’s the fact that you don’t know or even care that this is the last thing I would want!” he cried back.

Betty stepped forward, the tears making it a bit difficult to see. She tried to reach for him, but he stepped away and closed in on himself.

“You did this for you. To prove something.”

“To prove what?” she cried, already knowing where the conversation was going, and wanting to avoid it. Panic welled in her.

“You’re a great girlfriend. I don’t know,” he shook his head and his words were laced with derision, “Doesn’t it ever occur to you just how different we are? Like on a cellular DNA kind of level? You’re a straight-O student, you’re a cheerleader, for Merlin’s sake.” He stared at her. “You’re the perfect girl next door.”

Betty turned her eyes to the floor, murmuring, “I hate that word.”

Jughead continued, not hearing her. “I’m the damaged loner outsider from the wrong side of the tracks. Betty, come on. Who are we kidding? We’re on borrowed time.”

 _Borrowed time?_ she thought, anger growing out of her panic. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Betty, I’m not one of your projects, okay?” he stared hard at her. “Like solving Jason’s murder—”

“No,” said Betty firmly, reaching once more for him, but he sidestepped her. “You’re not a project, you’re my boyfriend.”

His next words were cruel. “Until you’re sick of slumming it with me, or until Archie changes his mind and says he wants to be with you?”

It was as if he slapped her, physically – or hit her with the Cruciatus – the pain was terrible. After all she had said, they had said to one another – how long she waited to make sure he wasn’t her second choice... he threw it back in her face.

She stared at him for a moment – maybe two – and then turned and walked away. All she knew was that he didn’t follow her.

*

She found Reggie standing by himself, tucked near enough to the front of the partygoers that he could keep an eye on Cheryl and Chuck, with Theodosius, their Head Boy, as well as Fletcher Foley. She stood near him, and he turned to her.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head, not speaking, and he didn’t press.

“Listen up, party people!” shouted Cheryl from the front door, her voice carrying and Dilton, who, in charge of the music, pulled the needle off the record. A few people around them urged people to quieten down. “Everyone has their secrets, and we’ve all done our fair share of sinning. That’s one thing my dear brother’s death has revealed. So let’s play a little game to get those secrets out in the open.”

From near the front of the crush, Veronica’s voice asked, “What the hell is Secrets and Sins?”

Betty could see Cheryl’s shark-like grin as she answered. “It’s a variation on Truth or Dare, in which we own our truths by telling it like it is. I’ll start the game with _you_ , Veronica Lodge.”

Betty moved forward a bit, very aware that Reggie was literally at her back; she saw Kevin staring at her worriedly, Joaquin at his side, trying to be as small as possible. FP was nearby; the only adult in the teen-filled party making him stand out as he reclined across the banister, eyes watching.

“Naturally,” replied Veronica, primly seating herself on the couch in the living room, Archie next to her. Jughead, Betty saw, was leaning against the snack table she made hours ago, near the buffet table. Much of the food was gone or mixed in the bowls, as partygoers took their fill.

“Let’s begin with the day you and your mob wife of a mother came to town for a so-called ‘fresh start.’ Tell us, Veronica, what’s so fresh about defiling Archie Andrews in a closet?”

Betty saw Veronica roll her eyes. “That was your doing.”

 _She’s so composed and unfazed,_ thought Betty proudly. _You go, V!_

Cheryl realized that wasn’t the correct avenue to travel down either, and tried a different angle. “Moving on to dear Daddy Lodge.” Her eyes flashed. “Isn’t it true that your father, from prison, illegally purchased the Twilight land? Which makes me wonder – what else is he doing from behind bars?”

“Well, I can’t speak for my father, but I can think of someone with a very dirty secret,” she said lightly, eyes focused on Cheryl. “Specifically, Cheryl killing her very own brother.”

The room shifted and the party quickly changed from revelry and gossip to unease.

Cheryl straightened, crossing her arms. Her words were defensive despite her bold posture. “Everyone knows how much I loved my brother.”

Veronica’s returning smile was dark. “Exactly. But did you love him maybe in ways that a sister shouldn’t love a brother?”

Silence descended on the room.

“And as you got older, Jason started to think it was strange, unnatural. So he chose Polly over you,” continued Veronica, her voice steady and light as she created the tale. “So you took one of your family’s _many_ heirloom wands and hit him with an _Avada Kedavra_ right – between – the – eyes.”

Dilton broke the silence cheerfully. “This game is sick. I wanna go next.”

Chuck, on Cheryl’s other side, laughed. “That’s the spirit, Doiley. What secrets do you have to reveal to us?”

Betty’s stomach dropped and her eyes sought out Jughead – she knew what Dilton was going to say, but Jughead didn’t look at her. Instead, she swung her head around to Archie, the poor boy watching his party and attempt at fun disintegrate in confusion.

“I saw Professor Grundy leave the Knight Bus near the Shrieking Shack, the day Jason went missing. I told Betty and Jughead, and then, Professor Grundy quit her job and left Hogwarts, like, two days later.”

“It was five,” muttered Betty.

“Oh!” continued Dilton, “And let’s not forget that Archie was also at the Black Lake that morning.”

Chuck’s low chuckle reverberated through those in the living room. “Merlin, Mordred, and Morgana! Colour me shocked, Archie Andrews. Is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight? Because Ms. Polish-My-Wand was giving you some extra lessons?”

“Don’t say anything, Archie. Don’t get in the gutter with them,” said Veronica quickly, eyes narrowed and focused on the tall Slytherin.

That was confirmation Chuck wanted, though, and he let out a full-blown laugh. “Wait, what? Andrews was banging a professor? Well, damn, I wish I would have known.” His face was dark and he leered at Archie. “I would’ve added you and Grundy to a list of conquests some of us boys have.”

Reggie anger was heady, his magic stirring in the air around everyone when he spoke. “Classy, Chuck, as always.”

While Chuck locked eyes on Reggie, Cheryl cheerfully gloated, “Wait a second! That also explains why Archie can’t seem to keep a girlfriend to save his life.” It seemed that everything Archie had done previously to Cheryl, all the kind things he had said, were ignored as she used the party to fuel her own desires. “He’s got serious Mommy issues. Anything to say for yourself, Archiekins? Were you victim or perpetrator?”

Betty felt her heart seize in her chest when Chuck finally broke eye contact with Reggie, landing on her, who stood in front of him.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn now,” said Chuck quietly, but everyone heard. Betty’s breathing quickened. “Boy, do I have a twisted secret to reveal, starring Betty Cooper.”

Archie shot to his feet. “Leave her the hell alone, Chuck.”

“Shut up, Andrews. Look, you may get a free peepshow from your window, but you do _not_ know her,” snarled Chuck, turning his head towards the redhead. “Hell, Betty doesn’t even know herself.”

“Mother fuck,” swore Reggie, and Betty was gratified to know at least _now_ he believed her. Her eyes swung at Kevin and Joaquin, catching Kevin’s wide eyes. He, too, knew what was happening.

 _Get out of here,_ she mouthed at him.

He grabbed Joaquin’s hand, and began to move them past FP, at the base of the stairs, but Chuck saw them and moved to block the front door.

“Oh, ho, going somewhere Keller?” he asked. “I think you can add some interesting details to the story of _how_ I got suspended.”

Spinning the story, Chuck turned back to the crowd. “But what you don’t know – what _none_ of you know, is that Betty took some Polyjuice and dressed up like a hooker, at Reggie’s party a few weeks ago.”

Reggie slammed his hand on Betty’s trembling shoulder, holding her tight. She felt the tremble in his own hand.

“Where did little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes get the potion? Hmm? Why – maybe she had help from the Aurors very own personal stash,” he continued, eyes on Kevin, who froze in horror. “And even better - with Reggie’s help, Betty drugged me, kept me cornered in the Jacuzzi, and I almost drowned until she got me to say what she wanted to hear!” He gestured to the crowd, and Betty felt her face drain of any colour.

“Stop it,” muttered Reggie in her ear. “You can’t trace Polyjuice, you know that. And as long as you don’t say anything, he has no proof. All he has are theories and that’s not enough for anything.”

“But they’ll all look at me differently—!” she gasped out, under her breath, without removing her eyes from the spectacle in front of her.

“They don’t matter,” whispered Reggie fiercely. “Only your friends do. No one cares about this after we graduate – and I swear to Merlin, no one is going to care about Chuck Clayton after this, either.”

She glanced quickly behind her, terrified to lose sight of Chuck. “...Reggie?”

“He’s crossing a Mantle, Little C,” the Asian Gryffindor was snarling, “And we _really_ don’t take well to our name being slandered.”

“—And then she really lost it!” finished Chuck, a nasty grin on his face as he turned to Jughead, who was hunched in on himself, arms crossed, and leaning against the buffet table. “But, hey, you knew all about this, right, Jughead?”

For a moment, Jughead said nothing, just looked at Chuck with a deadened stare. Betty wondered what was going through his mind in that moment – did he want to defend her? Have nothing to do with her now that he knew this terrible secret?

And then—

He launched himself forward, his right arm coming around in a wide arc, swinging and hitting Chuck hard enough the older Slytherin crumpled to the floor.

Chuck rose quickly, throwing himself at Jughead, and then Reggie and Fletcher were moving past Betty. Jughead was shoved back and he turned, catching himself into the coffee table Dilton was using for their music, and it broke under the weight. The glass shattered and the heavy gramophone toppled to the side.

“Enough! That’s enough!” shouted a familiar voice, and Betty glanced to see FP had waded into the pileup, reaching in.

Fletcher pulled Reggie up, his hair dishevelled, but a satisfied smirk on his face, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand.

“Get your hands off me!” shouted Chuck, as FP hauled him to his feet, shoving him at the door. Betty got a good look at him: his face was bloodied, already forming a bruise where Jughead hit him, and his shirt was torn and ripped. He was limping, hunched slightly in pain, as FP kept shoving the stumbling Slytherin, right through the open door and down the porch steps, watching as he stumbled away and down the quiet street.

He then turned to the stunned crowd. “Get out! Go on! What are you looking at? The party’s done. It’s over! Go home!”

Almost immediately, teenagers were making their way out of the house, while Betty stood petrified. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

“It’ll be fine,” said a male voice, and she looked up at Theodosius. The Ravenclaw Head Boy smiled down at her. “The Prefects will come together and we’ll make sure nothing is said.” He eyed her speculatively. “Besides – even _if_ Chuck were telling the truth – there’s no proof, is there, Cooper? I mean... _Priori Incantatem_ would only go back ten spells, and if Polyjuice was involved... who’s to say it was even you?” He looked up at the ceiling. “In fact... I seem to remember Lodge nearly taking Chuck’s head off at one point, and you and Keller went with Reggie to calm her down. It’s not possible for you to be in two places at once, is it?”

With a wink, the Head Boy turned on his heel and whistled, moving to Fletcher and Reggie, who were muttering lowly by the front door. They quickly left, not once glancing back.

“Merlin above!” breathed Kevin, he and Joaquin walking over to her, while Veronica and Archie began to slowly right furniture. “That could’ve gone worse.”

“We got very, very lucky,” whispered Betty.

Kevin turned to Joaquin, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t take some _Felix_ _Felicis_ before we came, did you?”

Joaquin eyed Kevin in return. “I think you know what fluids I had before we arrived.”

“TMI, you two!” Betty screwed up her face. “I do _not_ want to hear about your love life! Keep those details to yourselves, please!”

Joaquin slanted a grin at Betty, and Kevin blushed furiously.

“Did either of you,” she trailed off, hugging herself, and despite Reggie and Theodosius’s words, felt dirty. “Did either of you see Jug?”

Joaquin nodded, jerking his head to the front door. “He was one of the first out when his dad told Clayton off.”

Betty’s heart dropped. _I really fucked up,_ she thought tiredly, _this entire night has been one problem after another since we arrived. I should’ve listened to him – we should’ve left when he asked_.

“Oh,” she said, her voice tiny. “Thanks for telling me.” She blinked quickly to stop her tears from falling. She bit her lip, glancing over her shoulder at Veronica helping Archie sit on the couch, his face an awkward shade of green. “Can you – can you tell them I’m going to... I’m going to head off?”

Kevin frowned. “You’re not going home are you? Not like this.”

Betty shook her head. Her jacket was discarded somewhere in the kitchen, and she was going to slip out the back and go for a walk.

Kevin eyed her a bit longer. Joaquin touched his shoulder and they had a quick, wordless conversation in which Betty’s friend sighed. “You contact me on the mirror _every hour_ , okay?”

Betty offered a tiny smile in return, patting her jean pocket. “It’s right here.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Kev.” Eying Joaquin, she then did the same to him, much to his surprise. Beside him, Kevin beamed brightly.

It was easy for Betty to get into the kitchen, as Veronica was occupied and Archie wasn’t paying attention to anything else but the raven-haired witch. Betty’s heart broke a tiny little bit when she realized that the cake wasn’t even touched – left behind by not only Jughead, but everyone else.

She grabbed her coat from the kitchen nook, and slung it on, creeping on her toes out the door and into the cold night. The backyard was a mess as well, with discarded bottles and a keg that Moose brought, as well as other litter. The only light came from the garage, its door still open but empty inside.

With a sigh, Betty pulled her mittens from the pockets and put them on, turning to face her house, just hidden behind the Andrews’. She knew her mother was home, probably staring out the front and watching to ensure everyone left.

Knowing that, Betty turned towards the Black Lake, thinking a walk on the shore would help her gather her thoughts.

 _Did they –_ she couldn’t even form it, but then forced herself to. _Did Jug and I break up? Are we done before we began?_

The shore of the Lake was quiet, the inky black water gently lapping against the pebbled beach. There were a few stars out behind murky clouds, and the moon was playing peek-a-boo from behind them. Overall, the night was as dark as her mood, her thoughts overcome with the image of Jughead’s terse and angry face.

Even with him on her mind, she ended up in Hogsmeade, outside the Three Broomsticks. The lights were still on inside, and she could see a few people having a late meal or drink.

With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside, not hearing Madam Rosmerta’s cheerful greeting; it would’ve been a rare night off for her.

Her eyes scanned the pub, and landed on Jughead at a booth near the window, his face turned to look out at it. She hesitated, but then walked up to him.

 _I owe him an apology, no matter what,_ she thought, _and if he still wants to end things for this... I’ll... I’ll agree._

“Can I sit here?” she asked quietly.

Jughead didn’t turn to face her, his chin tilted up. His pose was indolent and refined, and the chilly reception made Betty wince. “It’s a free country.”

She slid in next to him. When she did so, she caught a look of a long cut high on his cheek. She bit back a gasp, wondering when it happened.

Swallowing, she tentatively quipped, “And all this time, I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.”

He scoffed. “I’m both. I’ve got layers.”

They sat in silence, Betty looking down at the palms of her hands and seeing the crescent scars that were deeper than normal from her stressful week.

With a sigh, Jughead turned and shifted, bringing his arm down from behind the booth to rest them both on the tabletop. Still speaking without turning to face her, Betty heard the weary tone and knew she deserved his disappointment.

“You were doing something nice. It’s just that sometimes, when people do nice things for me, I fizzle out,” he said.

“Jug – no,” she broke in, but he turned to her and she clamped her mouth shut.

“Maybe I’m not used to it. Maybe I’m scared,” he continued, looking down and then at her, his eyes and voice vulnerable, as it had been when he told her of the Oath, “Of getting hurt. Or being rejected for being myself.”

Betty shook her head frantically. “I should have told you about Chuck, but I lied. And instead I threw you this party that you didn’t even want.”

Jughead peered at her curiously. “Why did you?”

Betty frowned, wondering how to answer that. A simple answer was, _I wanted you to feel special_. A more complex one was that she was what he accused – _selfish_. It was all that and more, and as she wondered, Chuck’s words rang in her ear. _Dark_ _Betty_.

Lowly, Betty began. “There is... something is very, very wrong with me. Like there’s this darkness in me that’s overwhelming sometimes, and I don’t know where it comes from. But I think that’s what makes me do these crazy things.”

As she finished, she looked up at Jughead, his eyes dark and nonjudgmental, and she let her fingers uncurl from her palm. His eyes followed the movement, and then he swore.

“Like...” she trailed off, sniffling. “Sometimes, I can control it, Jug. Sometimes, it doesn’t overwhelm me, and then... when it does...”

 He reached for her hands and gently enfolded them with his, bringing them to his mouth where he placed tiny, delicate kisses against her knuckles. He peered at her from across them, kept against his mouth.

“And then,” she whispered, “Sometimes it’s just too much and I...” she shuddered. “Pol never liked it, but I read it. I read it cover to cover, the Selwyn grimoire. And Jug—” she looked up at him, eyes wide and terrified. “What if I really am more like my mother’s family than I thought?”

“You’re not, Betty,” swore Jughead, voice firm. “You’re not them – you’re no Death Eater and you’re not going to ever succumb to the darkness in you.”

“You can’t know that,” she whispered back.

Jughead leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, her hands still trapped between them. “Yes, I do. Because I’ll be right here to pull you back...” His eyes caught hers. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

*

_Whether you believe in order or chaos, in the end, it’s the same. We are either in control of our lives, or merely think we are._

_At the time, we all thought we were in control – but fate was hurtling us down a specific path, one that would do more than incite chaos; it would change the very fabric of Hogsmeade – and magical Britain._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interview this morning! Wish me luck, although tbh, I think I'm going more for practice than "I want" -- although teaching at a college would be nice...
> 
> Plan is to finish everything before the 16th, as I will be on vacation. Come say hello and geek out with me on [tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com)!


	21. All Hallow's Eve

*

XXI: All Hallow’s Eve

*

_Darkness falls across the land_

_The midnite hour is close at hand_

_Creatures crawl in search of blood_

_To terrorize y'awl's neighbourhood_

_And whosoever shall be found_

_[...]_

_Must stand and face the hounds of hell_

_And rot inside a corpse's shell_

_The foulest stench is in the air_

_[...]_

_And though you fight to stay alive_

_Your body starts to shiver_

_For no mere mortal can resist..._

\-- Michael Jackson, “Thriller,” opening narration by Vincent Price

*

_People like to say that the death of Jason Blossom changed everything at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In a place that had once been the site for a massive battle, where many had laid down their lives, magical Britain thought the worst was behind._

_But certain things never change._

_Take the Halloween Ball, for instance. Although Jason’s jersey had been retired, Quidditch season still went on, and Hufflepuff and Slytherin were set to play, with the Hogwarts Dragons cheering them on._

_As always, graduates from days of Hogwarts past were welcome to come and watch the match, cheering on their old Houses, and to relive their more youthful, more carefree days._

_What people fail to remember is that the past doesn’t let us go, and it’s hardly carefree._

_Especially not at Hogwarts._

*

They sat in that booth at the Three Broomsticks for some time – to the point where Betty lost track of it all. She was pressed into his side, his arm curled around her shoulder and they sat only in silence, comfortable with just each other’s presence.

“You know, your self-confidence is something we’re going to have to work on,” said Betty eventually.

Jughead scoffed. “What, are you my therapist now?”

“C’mon, Juggie,” she chided gently, “People mess up all the time, but the obvious response isn’t to run away when things get tough.”

He slanted a look at her in response. “Things generally don’t go in my favour. I’m pretty sure even if I regularly drank Felix Felicis my life would be a walking disaster.”

“Well, one—you’d end up with potions poisoning from overexposure,” said Betty pedantically, an upturn lift to her chin. “And two—I highly doubt that.”

Jughead shook his head. “You really don’t see it, do you? Some of what I said – yeah, it was terrible and I’m sorry I unloaded it on you – but... I meant parts of it.”

“Like what?”

“Like...” he trailed off, glancing away. “You’re amazing, Betts – and we _are_ very different. You know that, you’ve always known that and so has everyone else. You’re smart, and beautiful and on all these different committees and then there’s me.”

“There’s you?” repeated Betty, in confusion.

“Wrong side of the tracks – literally, here,” he began, pointing at himself, “I don’t care much for my grades and you had straight O’s on your OWLs, and I’m a loner.”

“And you think because of that you don’t—what? Deserve to be happy?” she asked, incredulously. Her eyes were wide.

Jughead nodded slowly, the tips of his ears, no longer hidden by his beanie, turning red.

Betty reached forward and took his hands in hers. “No one ever deserves things just because, Juggie. We receive them because someone thinks we should have them or because we work for it. You and me? You might think that it’s strange—”

He snorted.

Betty amended her word choice. “—okay, _everyone else_ at Hogwarts might think it’s strange, but it’s not to me. You know why? Because it’s always been you, from the moment we met. You were always there. You saw everything, you were my shoulder to cry on and you were the one to make me laugh when I needed cheering up. You were by my side during the good and bad... and I like to think, that when you let me, I was there for you, too.”

Jughead’s nose twitched and he brought one of his hands to it to rub roughly, as he sniffed.

She cleared her throat, removing her hands from his, and reached into her coat pocket, taking out a small box. Jughead eyed it curiously, his eyebrows darting up as she pulled her wand out and tapped it, enlarging the  small box into something still small, but much larger than what it had been.

“What’s this?”

Betty smiled up at him, and pushed the small, nicely wrapped box toward him. “Your birthday present.”

“Betts, no,” protested Jughead, shaking his head. “You didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to,” was her response, and she nudged the box again. “Open it.”

Jughead sighed, but reached for the box. He undid the bow and ribbon on it carefully, and then began sliding his fingers under the wrapping paper instead of tearing into it. Betty nearly bounced impatiently next to him. Finally, the paper was gone and revealed a small white box with lid. He took the lid off and inhaled quickly.

“Betts... Betty,” he breathed, “This is too much.”

She shook her head, watching him reach in and reverently touched the pocket watch she selected for him. “No, it’s not. I know watches are traditionally given as a coming-of-age thing, but...”

Jughead pulled the watch out, letting the silver chain dangle through his fingers while he held the watch in the palm of his hand. He clicked it open, and the face popped, revealing a small mirror, and the shiny opal watch face, with the second hand already ticking forward.

“There’s a bit more to the present, too,” said Betty.

Jughead glanced at her. “How so?”

Betty motioned for him to place it on the table. “You know my mirror with Kev? The one that we use to talk to each other?”

Jughead nodded.

“Well, I’ve been working on a way to have multiple mirrors linked but still able to have private conversations,” explained Betty, placing her wand on the tabletop.

“Really? How?” asked Jughead, intrigued.

“Flitwick pointed me in the direction,” began Betty, tying the implication of professor-sponsored magic to her project. “He suggested tying the magic to blood.”

A questioning look appeared in Jughead’s blue eyes, and Betty explained, “A drop of your blood ties the mirror to you directly. You then just call the name of the person you want to speak to – in this case, it’s only myself, Kev, and Polly who have mirrors – and the magic, a modified Protean charm, does the rest.”

“Well,” murmured Jughead, glancing between Betty and the watch, “Just how much blood do you need?”

Betty beamed at Jughead, and said, “one or two drops. A smear on the watch, really.”

Jughead flicked his wrist and his wand slid from its holster into his waiting hand. He drew the wandtip along the tip of his index finger on his left hand, muttering the cutting charm under his breath so that he had something the size of a parchment cut on the tip.

Blood welled. He turned his finger over and smeared the dark red liquid along the silver of the watch’s front face. Betty used her wand then and the spell she designed in conjunction with the runes to bind the two together. There was a flash of light – something quick and sharp – that made her shut her eyes tightly, and then it faded.

She pulled her mirror – which she carried with her everywhere (and she needed to let Kevin know she was okay) – out from her jacket pocket and said, clearly, “Jughead Jones.”

The pocket watch on the table shook and rattled in response, and Jughead reached forward to pick it up. He clicked open the watch face and in the tiny mirror, Betty’s face smiled back at him.

They both shut down the connection on their ends and turned to one another. “Betty, this is amazing!”

She blushed bashfully.

“No, really,” enthused Jughead, one hand clutching tight at the pocket watch. “The magic involved in this is brilliant.”

“I’d just rather have a way to talk to you without needing owls or Floo,” she said, ducking her head a bit.

Jughead reached forward and used two fingers under her chin to push it up. “I like the idea, too,” he murmured, and then leaned forward and kissed her.

She sighed into his mouth and melted against his firm chest, her weight falling against him. He wrapped his arms around her fully and hauled her closer, bringing one hand around to the back of her neck to hold her steady as he slanted his face and sucked on her lower lip.

Eventually, they pulled back and sat in the booth for a while, their foreheads touching and just breathing each other in, their eyes closed.

With a sigh, Betty pulled back a bit, opening her eyes to look at her boyfriend. “I’m going to need to get home.”

Jughead nodded, silently. Together, they got up and left the Three Broomsticks, which had emptied over the course of their time in the booth. Hand-in-hand, they walked through the silence main street of Hogsmeade, their path illuminated only by the strength of the moon high above them, and the flickering flames of the torches in the street lamps. The slap of their shoes echoed in the still of the cold night on the cobblestone street, and their breaths escaped in thin wisps of white, swirling around them.

It didn’t take long to reach the Cooper house. The street where she and the Andrews lived was quiet in the early hours of the morning, although there was still some evidence of the party at Archie’s, with the littered cups and toilet paper hanging off one tree.

“We’ll have to banish that before Fred gets home,” sighed Jughead, eyeing the juvenile decoration.

“I’ll come by later and help, too,” offered Betty.

Jughead shook his head. “No, get some sleep. I’m staying with Archie tonight, anyway, but I’m pretty awake. I’ll get started in the kitchen. I have a cake to eat, don’t I?”

Betty grinned at him.

“I’ll talk to you later?” she asked, shyly, as they stood at the side of the house, where he had placed a ladder. He had been using it to access her bedroom the few nights he remained over when Alice Cooper caught him.

“On the mirror,” confirmed Jughead, holding onto the bottom rungs as she climbed – wriggling her hips and butt a bit more than normal, knowing he was watching from below.

Once inside, she peaked out her window, grinning down at him.

“Goodnight,” she called, softly.

“Night, Betts,” he said quietly back, his voice carrying in the quiet evening.

Betty pulled back inside and shut the window gently, closing her curtains. She stood for a moment or two in her childhood bedroom and resisted the urge to squeal.

 _Everything worked out_ , she thought, quickly changing into her pajamas. _We’re still together, we still want to be with each other, and we had our first fight and survived_.

The stress of the evening crashed down on her quickly, and she was asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

*

Knocking on her bedroom door roused Betty from the heavy, deep slumber she tumbled into upon returning with Jughead from the Three Broomsticks in the early hours of the morning. With tousled hair and crusty eyes from sleep, Betty blearily called, “Come in.”

Alice tentatively poked her head in, and upon seeing Betty sitting up, pushed the door open further. Behind her, a tray floating gently in the air with a teapot, teacup, as well as a tiny bottle of something red on it. “I brewed some tea – you were out late last night and thought you need a pick-me-up with some Pepper Up.”

Betty stretched, rubbing at her tired eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

Alice allowed her magic to direct the tray to the small side table by Betty’s bed, and then perched at the edge on her bed, smoothing her hand on the duvet. Betty began to slowly pour her tea into her cup, a move she was sure her mother waited for before speaking next.

“So I saw that you invited Jughead’s dad to your little soiree last night,” she said, her tone deceptively light.

Betty glanced at her. “I did. I thought it would be nice.”

Alice made an affirming noise. “And he was talking to a long-haired delinquent wearing a leather jacket.”

Betty stilled. “You mean Joaquin?”

“Oh, is that his name?” Alice lifted her eyebrows. “How do they know each other?”

Betty frowned and put down the teapot, the china clinking sharply on the tray. “They know each other through the Serpents.” Betty worried her lip and wondered if she would add in the next part, but with a sigh, realized, _if I don’t tell her, she’ll figure it out anyway and I’ll just have to hear about it after the fact_. “He’s kind of dating Kevin.”

Alice’s mouth dropped open and she affected a shocked and affronted tone. “What? A Southside Serpent dating the Head Auror’s son? This is a small town, but it’s not that small.”

“It’s not that big a deal, mom,” argued Betty, looking at her hard. “Besides, whatever Joaquin and Mr. Jones were talking about, it could’ve been anything.”

“Oh, yes,” mocked Alice, “Anything from which houses they plan to rob, to where they sell illegal potions.”

Betty busied herself with the tray so her mother didn’t see her wince at the last accusation – especially considering she was right on the mark.

“Things got pretty rowdy last night,” remarked Alice, and betty glanced at her. She was tapping a manicured finger against her chin, looking at the ceiling. “At one point FP had to tell people to go home.” She mumbled under her breath, “Never thought I’d see the day...”

“Cheryl and Chuck crashed the party,” said Betty. “I only ever wanted it to be the seven of us.”

“All the more reason to prepare for the worst,” retorted Alice, standing. “Drink your tea Betty, and take your Pepper Up. Aren’t you on the Halloween Ball committee? It’s just over a week away, and you’ll have quite a lot of work to do.”

Betty sighed. “Yes, mom.”

She waited until her mother left, and then took the Pepper Up. She wasn’t wrong – being on the Halloween Ball committee meant she was going to be awfully busy this week, but no more so than usual. Besides, she had Kevin as her musical coordinator, and they were a good team.

Within hours, she was back at Hogwarts, dressed in street clothes instead of her uniform, and in the Black and Gold office – a place she knew she would not be disturbed. She sat at the large conference table of pushed together desks, a collection of parchments spread across in a semi-circle, each with different headings: music, decoration, food.

Her mother had appeared at some point, now able to come and go from Hogwarts with Headmistress McGonagall’s approval as a part time staff member for the Black and Gold. She was at her end of the office, ignoring her daughter as she worked on something of her own – whether for the _Prophet_ or her case against the Blossoms, Betty wasn’t sure. Instead, Betty kept focused, working through one of the lists and making changes, when a knock had her looking up. Her face softened and she smiled at the sight of her female best friend poking her head around the corner, a mug in her hand and plate in the other.

“Oh, hey!” said Betty, turning back to her parchment, and making a few notes. “Just one sec.”

“Hi there,” said Veronica. She put the mug and plate down near Betty’s elbow. “Decaf skim latte and a fresh scone, courtesy of the elves in the kitchen.”

Betty glanced at the plate and drink and then back to Veronica in confusion. “The last time you brought me baked goods was because you kissed Archie.”

Veronica chuckled nervously.

 _Something happened after I left,_ thought Betty, narrowing her eyes.

“Betty, I just testified on my father’s behalf and helped his chances of going free,” said Veronica, nervously playing with her pearl necklace.

 _Deflection_ , thought Betty, although she asked, gently, “That’s good news, right?”

Veronica shrugged and sat in one of the rolling chairs opposite Betty. She swivelled in it a few times, looking over Betty’s ball preparation and then at the murder wall she, Jughead and Kevin had. “I want to help with your investigation. I want the truth. Whatever it is.”

“Excellent!” interrupted Alice, causing both Betty and Veronica to glance at her mother, who was now standing and making her way to the conference table. “Because ladies, I need you to look around the room. Whoever is not in this room is on the table as a possible murder suspect. Including those Pussycats.”

Betty groaned. “Merlin above, Mom—”

 Alice ignored her. “Now, let’s talk about your father. He has an epic grudge against the Blossoms, so yes. It’s totally within the realm of possibility that he hired someone from jail to kill Jason. Maybe Jughead’s dad.”

Veronica’s head bounced back and forth between the two Coopers; Betty continued to sit in her chair, while Alice stood at the head of the table.

“You really believe that?” asked Betty, skeptically. “I saw Dad, you know, the other day?”

“My dad hired Jughead’s dad to trash the drive-in,” said Veronica quietly, drawing the attention from both witches. “And given recent events, it’s not inconceivable that he might’ve hired him to do other jobs. Or—”

“—Commit murder,” finished Alice, an approving nod directed at Veronica. “And, for all we know, that gay Greaser Serpent is an accomplice.”

Betty threw her quill down. “And what are you basing that off of? That you saw Mr. Jones and Joaquin talking?”

“We talked about this, Betty,” said Alice, condescendingly. “It didn’t look like they were talking. It looked like they were _conspiring_.”

Betty scoffed. “Conspiring about what?”

Alice shrugged, rolling her eyes. “That’s what I need you to find out. Either through Jughead or FP directly, without raising suspicion, of course.” She grinned, and flicked her wand. A piece of parchment zoomed from the desk she was working at into her waiting hand. “Which is why I have prepared a seemingly innocuous list of questions. Maybe you could go over for dinner this weekend?”

“ _God_ , mom!” erupted Betty, watching her mother’s face blanch at the Muggle blaspheme. She stood from the table, her chair going spinning out from behind her. “I already asked Jughead, point-blank, if he thought his father had anything to do with Jason’s death, and he said no. And I believed him, and I still believe him. Mr. Jones has been nothing but nice to me.”

“Betty, you’re too close to this,” cautioned Alice, eyes hard.

“And you’re _not_?” argued Betty, her own eyes flashing in anger. “I’m not going to insult Jughead or betray him by entertaining this.” She looked at her mother and then at Veronica, who looked vaguely contrite. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Halloween Ball to plan. Get out.”

Alice and Veronica glanced at one another, but Veronica nodded, swiftly standing from her chair and exiting the office, with Alice behind her, wearing a deep scowl.

Betty took a deep breath, eyes closed as she tried to control her annoyance. Her hands curled, but she deliberately placed them on the tabletop, keeping her palms flat. Once she counted to ten, and then twenty in her head, she reached for her backpack and pulled out the mirror.

“Jughead Jones,” she called.

She waited a few seconds, and then, in the milky reflective surface of the mirror, Jughead’s face appeared. She couldn’t see much of the background, but it looked like he was sitting on his bed, although the curtains were not green like she expected of Slytherin.

“Betts? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” she teased, trying to lighten her tone. “Can’t I just call you?”

A wry look appeared on Jughead’s face. “Let’s call it intuition as well as experience.”

Betty mock gasped. “Why, Juggie! With that power of deduction, surely you should be taking Divination.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“My mother and Veronica were just here,” said Betty, getting to the point, her voice solemn. “You should know, my mom is focusing on your father for her investigation. I think she’s taking a break from the Blossoms because she saw your dad last night at Archie’s.”

“You invited him, why wouldn’t he be there?” asked Jughead rhetorically.

Betty shrugged. “I agree – but she said she saw him and Joaquin talking and has made up this entire fantasy that they’re conspiring together.”

Jughead sighed. “Great,” he muttered, running a hand across his mouth – and Betty was struck speechless at the familiar gesture she had seen his father make. “Do you know why she thinks they are – _conspiring_ together?”

“I’m pretty sure she thinks Joaquin is a Serpent,” admitted Betty quietly, “And she seems to _know_ that your father is one.”

“Alice Cooper, neighbourhood watch and Rita Skeeter version two-point-oh,” sardonically said Jughead. “Thanks for letting me know, Betty. I’ll... well, I’ll figure something out.”

Betty frowned, her voice unusually quiet and small when she said, “You know, this changes nothing. Remember when we visited your dad and you asked him, if he killed Jason? You said you believed him when he said he didn’t do it. Well, I believe you, and I believe him, and that won’t change.”

A small smile graced Jughead’s face. “Thanks, Betts.”

“To change the subject,” she said moments later, once the silence lapsed, “You can tell me why there aren’t green hangings for the Slytherin beds? I know Hufflepuff is the only one without curtains, and Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are both obviously assigned house colours. So why isn’t Slytherin?”

A panicked look briefly crossed Jughead’s face. “Oh, um,” he stuttered, “They’re being washed?”

Betty blinked. “They’re... being _washed_?”

A sheepish expression fell on his face. “Yeah... sorry. That was... lame.”

“Juggie,” warned Betty in a low tone.

He winced. “After dinner, tonight. Seventh floor, by the portrait of the dancing trolls. I’ll – I’ll explain things then.”

Betty narrowed her eyes.

“Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she replied.

Dinner passed too slow, and Kevin and Veronica, sitting with her, kept up a stream of conversation around their distracted friend, eyes on her but not saying anything. As soon as she finished the last morsel of food on her plate, Betty took off, her heart pounding furiously as she came to a stop on the seventh floor, looking back and forth down the deserted corridor.

There were a few doors, mostly paintings and portraits, and she glanced at them until she found the one of the dancing trolls. Opposite it, was a large wooden door with iron handle.

She tentatively knocked.

There were a few beats, and then Jughead swung the door open, glancing down the hallway, and ushered her into the room. She gasped.

The room was warm, and cozy, and small. There was a bed, tucked between two windows that overlooked the mountains, opposite a large fireplace. Next to the fireplace were two squishy armchairs in red, with side tables. One entire wall was filled to the brim with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and the other wall on the other side had a large writing desk and door – which Betty guessed led to a bathroom.

“What is this?” she breathed, turning in a circle to take in the cozy room.

Jughead flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s the Room of Requirements.”

“I’ve never heard of this place,” said Betty. “How do you know about it?”

“Great-Aunt Hestia knew about the room, thanks to be part of the Order of the Phoenix,” explained Jughead, moving Betty to sit in one of the armchairs. He took the other. “I’m pretty sure the professors know about the room, too.”

“How?”

Jughead grimaced. “I think I’ve seen McGonagall patrolling the floor in her animagus form.”

“Headmistress,” Betty corrected absently, still looking at the bookshelves. “So... you come here to, what? Exactly?”

Jughead squirmed a bit under the intense look she sent him. “I’ve... um... I’ve been sleeping here, actually.”

“What.”

There was no question in her voice. Her tone was flat, and Jughead shifted as she sat primly and folded her hands in her lap to avoid clenching her fists.

“You know that the Slytherins and I don’t see... eye-to-eye,” muttered Jughead. “So when things get a bit too tense, I escape up here.”

“And things have been rough?” she probed, leaning forward a bit.

Jughead nodded once, miserably. “Since Reggie’s party, or thereabouts.”

“Why don’t you just stay with Archie and Kev in the Gryffindor tower?” she asked. “You used to do sleepovers there before.”

“Yeah,” snorted Jughead, “When we were like... twelve. We’re not little kids anymore, Betty.”

Betty let her eyes roam over Jughead as she spoke, an appreciative gleam in them. “I really hadn’t noticed, Juggie.”

He squirmed for an entirely different reason, that time.

“Look, I’m not going to stay in the Gryffindor rooms because well, one; Reggie and Moose,” explained Jughead, leaning back in the seat and directing his eyes to the flames in the fireplace. “And second; Archie has other things to worry about than me crashing with him.”

“He does?” frowned Betty.

Jughead nodded. “Mary came back the other night, with Fred. Archie was a wreck this weekend because his dad had gone to Paris to see his mom and sign the divorce papers.”

Betty brought her hands to her mouth, to stifle her gasp. “Oh, ho... I didn’t know.”

“He kept it quiet,” soothed Jughead, looking at her. “Anyway... I guess at some point during the...” he couldn’t hide his distaste at the word, and Betty felt the familiar shame sweep over her, “party... he must have gotten on the Floo and contacted his dad at the hotel he was staying at. He must have made an impression, because Fred and Mary took the first International Portkey out that morning.”

“Yikes,” said Betty.

“So, that’s why I don’t want to bother him,” finished Jughead, folding his arms across his chest to clutch at his biceps. “Besides, this is _Hogwarts_. I’m fine here.”

Betty looked at her boyfriend skeptically. She could read the misery in the lines of his body, the way he hunched in on himself. All his friends were having trouble with their parents – himself included – but what were they doing?

 _Getting caught up in our own issues and ignoring Juggie_ , she thought sadly, realizing that she, too, was guilty of ignoring her boyfriend – especially with his sister and mother gone and his father trying to turn his life around.

A kind of determination came over Betty, and she slowly rose from the armchair, eyes firmly planted on her boyfriend. He barely noticed her moving until she was an arm’s length away, drawing his eyes from the fire to her, standing just at his knee.

“Betts... what?”

Betty stepped forward, and then placed one knee on either side of his hip, thankful for the squishy, roomy armchairs. Her weight on the seat on top of his shifted him further back and she slid a bit forward, and then settled herself in his lap.

His hands automatically came up to cradle her, lightly on her hips. He inhaled sharply. “Betts – what?” he repeated, but this time, there was a hitch in his voice.

“Shh,” she whispered, bringing her hands up and cupping his cheeks. His eyes focused on her, but his pupils were blown wide and there was a flush to his cheeks.

Betty let herself slide a bit more forward, until she was seated firmly, with her core dressed against the seam of Jughead’s trouser zipper. She felt something long and hard against her, and she pressed down.

Jughead gasped, his eyes wide.

She grinned and then kissed him. One of his hands slid to her neck, angling her and pressing tighter against her in retaliation, while the other hand went to the curve of her bum and cupped her. Betty swooned, suddenly losing the control of the situation by showing him she cherished him, to their embrace turning carnal.

Unconsciously, she ground down and Jughead tore his mouth from hers. “ _Shit_.”

He threw his head back and Betty leaned forward to nibble at his neck, tasting salt and sweat and something so uniquely Jughead that she instantly wanted more. She kissed up the pale skin, to his cheek where three freckles starkly stood out and ground against him again. He moaned.

She moved from his cheek to his ear, biting gently down on his earlobe and sucking it into her mouth. She released it with an audible pop, and breathed, “Remind me – what was number fifty-two, again?”

Jughead shivered, drawing back from her to look at her. Betty knew she was flushed, and her hair was rumpled from where Jughead was fisting the back of her neck, undoing the tight ponytail at the base.

“F-fifty-two?” he repeated, and then seemed to collect himself somewhat. “You wanna.... you want to...?”

His eyes darted from her face to where she was pressed against him, her hips still moving against him every so often, his own rising to meet her.

“Juggie,” breathed Betty, reaching behind to the hand on her bum, and drawing it between them. She then pressed her forehead against him, and smiled. All the while, she pressed her hand firmly on top of his, and directed it in a sensuous slide down between the valley of her breasts, her stomach, to where her skirt bunched.

“Oh,” said Jughead, dumbly.

She slipped their hands under her skirt.

 _“Oh,”_ he repeated, blinking.

She bit her lip, and then – there was nothing but stars.

*

Jughead was waiting for her when she left the women’s locker room, already out of her Dragon cheer uniform after the Hufflepuff/Slytherin Quidditch match the following Saturday after his birthday, which was a slaughter; she knew Trev would be feeling particularly down and Hufflepuff was not going to be a very upbeat place that evening.

“Hey, you,” he called, an easy, friendly grin on his face.

 _Victory suits him_ , thought Betty, eyeing the languid way he stood, arms crossed and against the side of the building.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the dinner?” he continued.

Betty stopped. “What?”

Jughead nodded. “Yeah, your mom basically tackled me once the match ended to invite my dad and I over tonight.” He frowned, taking in her stupefied expression. “Did you... not know?”

Betty quickly schooled her features, while her mind whirled frantically. “No, no, of course, I’ve just, you know, got so many—” she cleared her throat and waved her hand in a circular motion beside her head, “—Plates are spinning. I’m a little terrified about the social experiment of it all, but I think it’s good for our families to get to know each other.”

 _What is mom playing at?_ wondered Betty. _She’s made no secret her dislike for Juggie’s father._

“I think it’s important for us. You know?” Jughead continued, almost shyly. He reached forward for Betty’s hand and she let him take it.

“Yeah,” she replied, grinning at him. It was sweet to see his vulnerable side out, especially when thinking that it was due to their two family’s getting to know one another. Had it been anyone other than her mother, she, too, would’ve felt appreciative.

“Anyway, she said she only needed a few hours of prep,” said Jughead, and they began walking back to the castle.

“A few hours?” Betty sighed. “She’s probably ‘borrowing’ a house elf from her father’s estate.” Betty cut a glance at Jughead. “Has she already invited your father?”

Jughead nodded. “Dad always tries to make the Slytherin matches, and I saw him earlier.”

Betty bit her lip. “So... what are we going to do between now and then?”

He glanced at her, a wicked grin on his face. “I was thinking we could... ‘study.’ In the Room of Requirement.”

“Study huh?” grinned Betty. “Let me just send an owl and I’ll meet you there.”

They split at the Entrance Hall, with Jughead going up and towards the seventh floor, while Betty turned and went straight to the owlry. Upon reaching the tower, she pulled out spare parchment from her Dragon cheer bag, and a quill, and began to hastily scribble a note. Once done, she sent it off with the first owl she coaxed from the rafters, and set it free towards Hogsmeade.

She then turned back around, a smile on her face despite the worry that her mother was planning something. She had a date with her boyfriend in the Room of Requirements.

*

Betty straightened her clothing, tugging her shirt back on straight and tucking it into her skirt, while Jughead watched from the bed.

“You really don’t have to go,” he said, eyeing her, reclining against the many pillows the Room supplied.

She stifled a laugh. “It would probably be best if I do go.” She glanced at him over her shoulder and watched as his eyes darkened in lust. “Besides, if I stay – who knows how long we’ll be in here? And we have a dinner to go to.”

“I’m fine with skipping it,” said Jughead, eyes on the dip of her waist.

Betty twirled in shock. “You? Saying no to food? Juggie, are you well?”

“You’re more important,” he argued, a familiar, small grin on his face.

“And you’ll leave your father at the mercy of my mother?” laughed Betty.

“My dad is capable of taking care of himself,” retorted Jughead. “Besides, didn’t you say you think they know each other?”

Betty nodded, pulling her hair out from the collar of her shirt and then tying it up in a ponytail. “It sounds like it, the way she speaks. Wasn’t your dad a Slytherin, too? They were probably housemates.”

Jughead shrugged.

“Anyway, I should go check on everything at home,” continued Betty, turning towards him and kneeling on the edge of the bed to reach across and kiss him. He brought his hands up and cupped her cheeks, drawing her in further and languidly taking his time to taste her, lick her lips and coax her tongue to twine with his.

“Juggie,” whined Betty, breathlessly, pulling back. “I really should go. And you’ll see me soon, anyway.”

“Not soon enough,” he muttered back, eyeing her mouth.

She laughed and pushed against his chest, standing at the side of the bed. “Don’t forget – V and Archie are going to meet us at the Three Broomsticks after dinner. She said Archie wants help picking their songs for Monday’s Halloween Ball.”

Jughead groaned, flopping back a bit on the pillows. “Knowing Arch, it’ll be all ‘oh woe is me’ and doom and gloom.”

“You’re one to talk,” she teased, blowing him a kiss and leaving the room. The darkening halls of Hogwarts in the early evening of late October greeted Betty as she exited the Room of Requirements, the shadows lengthening and stretching until they were distorted images. She fought off a chill that always seemed to occur in the castle around the same time each year, rubbing her arms.

 _I need to learn what mom’s up to before Jughead arrives for dinner_ , she thought, frowning. _He’s so happy and I don’t want to see him hurt because of her_.

She returned to the Hufflepuff dorm, which was very somber given their devastating loss to Slytherin – even though the points didn’t count and Hufflepuff gained twenty towards the House Cup, the fact that a diminished Slytherin team was able to still score over two hundred points.

“Hey, Betty,” called our Ambrose, sitting morosely in an armchair by the fireplace.

“Hi, Am,” replied Betty, moving through the common room and straight to her dorm. Veronica was lying on her bed, flipping through _Witch Weekly_ when she came in. She glanced up, then back down at her glossy magazine, and then froze.

Veronica’s eyes lifted to meet Betty’s.

She shrieked and leapt off the bed. “MERLIN, B! What were you and Loverboy _up_ to?”

Betty sputtered. “I beg your pardon?”

Veronica grinned, pointing a finger at her. “You are distinctly ruffled, your lipgloss is missing, and you have a twinkle in your eyes. What did you and Mr. Jones get up to?”

Betty flushed scarlet and averted her eyes from her friend.

Veronica wordlessly shrieked. “Did you,” she lowered her voice, “did you go all the way?”

“V!” gasped Betty. “No! Merlin, we’ve only really been a couple two weeks!”

Veronica gave her a knowing look, and tapped the side of her nose. “I get it, B. I get it – I won’t say anything about you being a sexy little snake charmer.”

Betty sighed. “My mom invited Jug and his father to mine for dinner tonight, so I’m going to take off. I’ll meet you at the Broomsticks at nine?”

Veronica nodded, sending her away with a tiny, airy twitch of her fingers.

Betty quickly left the Hufflepuff dorm, her head down to keep anyone else from stopping her. She scowled; did she had a giant sign floating above her that said she and Jughead has spent the last few hours together, getting – for lack of a better choice of words – better acquainted?

Her scowl and power walk kept her warm and heated the entire trip from Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade and around to her house.

The scowl only deepened when she arrived home, unlocking the door with a press of her hand against the wood as the wards read her, and she was greeted by her grandfather’s house elf.

“I know what you’re doing, Mom,” she accused, as soon as she saw her mother standing to the side of the kitchen, watching another house elf cook the dinner.

Alice turned, a questioning look on her face. “Whatever do you mean? I’m making peach pie for our guests.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “No, _you’re_ not, Jinksy is. What I meant was, is that you’re laying out some kind of trap for Jughead’s dad.”

Alice sighed heavily. “On the contrary, Betty, I took what you said earlier to heart.”

Betty’s eyebrows jumped up. “Took what I said to heart? So you’re not going to question Jughead or his dad about the murder then?”

Alice paused. “I mean, only if it happens to come up as casual dinner conversation.”

“I’m not playing this game with you, Mom!” snapped Betty. “And neither is Jughead, not after I tell him what you’re planning here.”

Alice turned slowly away from the kitchen towards her daughter, who hovered in the living room. She eyed Betty with something dangerous glinting in her eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Betty? When I invited Jughead, he seemed so excited. Like it really meant a lot to him that our families are going to get to know each other.” She then smiled prettily at her. “That’s all I’m after, honey.”

Betty aborted a scream of frustration. “FP is innocent, Mom. Jughead said so, and I trust him.”

Alice smiled condescendingly. “I’m sure the question of FP’s guilt or innocence won’t even come up at dinner.”

“It _better_ not,” threatened Betty. “Or I will happily tell them both anything and everything you’ve said or suspected and let them draw their own conclusions about you.”

“And you’re willing to risk Jughead letting you go?” Alice asked. “If he doesn’t like what you say about me – and if FP tells him you’re no good for him – you’d let him go because being honest was the best choice?”

Betty’s heart dropped, and her lip trembled. She took a deep breath. “Yes, mom. If that’s what happened, then yes. I would let him go because my _crazy_ mother didn’t know when to let something go.” She sniffed and surreptitiously wiped at the tears that were welling in her eyes. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to my room to freshen up.”

She turned and fled, and locked her bedroom door behind her – something she was forbidden from doing. It was symbolic of course, her mother and father could break through the lock with a well-placed spell or adapting the wards, but it felt thrilling for Betty.

For a girl who had never really pushed boundaries before, Betty was becoming a little troublemaker – _although_ , she thought ruefully, _nowhere near what Polly had gotten up to_.

She didn’t do much to clean up before Jughead and FP arrived (and hopefully, her letter to her father arrived in time, too); instead, she worked on Archie’s gentleman’s mirror and Veronica’s handheld, casting the charms needed before the blood was needed to bind everything together. That took her some time, and by the time she finished casting the spells, she could smell the delicious scents of roast beef and grilled vegetables waft up to her room.

She straightened her clothes – still in uniform – and peered at herself at her vanity’s mirror.

“You look very nice,” the mirror commented.

“Thank you,” she replied, noting that there was a lack of puffiness around her eyes. She nodded once more, and descended from her room, just as there was a knock on the front door.

Betty felt the wards shift, feeling the intentions of those on the stoop, and for one, frenzied moment, she thought the Selwyn wards would hurt Jughead and his father, deeming them threats to the Cooper family.

However, the shifted into ‘accepting visitors’ and Betty quickly yanked the door open, before Jinksy or any other elf could do it for her.

Jughead and his father stood, dressed similarly but differently: Jughead wore much of his Hogwarts uniform as well, having not changed after she left him at Hogwarts; however, his father wore a nice robe overtop of nice trousers and a shirt.

“Hi,” greeted Betty, smiling. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, Betty,” said FP. They stepped forward together.

“This is for your mom,” muttered Jughead quietly from her side. Betty glanced down to see a bouquet of fresh wildflowers, and her eyes softened.

“Oh, Juggie,” breathed Betty. “These are beautiful.”

“Jinksy will take those, Miss.”

Betty sighed, and turned to the small house elf who stood impatiently, looking up at her from her knees. Biting her lip, Betty took the flowers gingerly from Jughead, and then passed them on to her grandfather’s house elf, who disappeared with them with a sharp _crack._

 _I hope I see those again,_ she thought wistfully.

“Anyway,” Betty turned back around to the two Jones men. “This way.”

She led them through the door at the end of the hallway, and pointed to where they could sit, just as her mother appeared with a wine glass in one hand and her wand directing the dishes of food towards the table, two other house elves present to watch over everything.

Everyone remained standing until Alice sat at the head of the table, her back to the kitchen, and then Betty sat at her right; Jughead and FP then sat, waiting for them first; Jughead across from her and at Alice’s left, and his father beside him.

Everyone began commenting on the food, asking who wanted what and how much, until their plates were full and banal talk regarding gossip at Hogwarts, classes, friends, and the professors carried them through their meal.

Eventually, Jughead smiled politely and placed the fork down on a clean plate. “Super-delicious, Mrs. C.”

From beside him, FP also grinned – although everyone at the table could see it was a bit strained – and rested his arm along the back of his son’s seat. “Sure is, Alice. Been a long time since I ate something that didn’t come in a combo meal or a snack pack.”

Alice graciously accepted the compliments and smiled. Betty felt dread settle in her stomach. “So, FP...”

“Mmm?”

“Betty tells me that you’re working for Fred Andrews now,” began Alice carefully, slowly, like a snake swaying back and forth, eying its prey before moving in for the strike. “How do you balance that with all of your other responsibilities?”

FP eyed her back, something glinting in his eyes. “You mean like being a father?”

Alice’s returning smile was shark-like. From across one another, Betty and Jughead shared a mutual look of vague horror and unease.

“And being a part of the Southside community,” continued Alice, picking up her china cup for their after-dinner coffee.

“Mom,” warned Betty, thinking how to get her to stop – how to tell her this was inappropriate – but the words died on her tongue.

“You can say “Southside Serpent,” Alice. I’m not ashamed,” said FP, owning to his extra activities around Hogsmeade and elsewhere. “And it’s not just me, there’s a bunch of us working on Fred’s site.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, I mean,” Alice put down the cup and folded her arms across the top of the table primly. “I’m just curious – how did you make your living before that?”

“I scraped by. Odd jobs.”

“I know that you worked for the Twilight, Jughead, before it was closed,” said Alice, turning her attention to Jughead, who looked petrified at being addressed in this conversation.

He nodded.

Alice looked back at FP. “Did you find work there, too, FP?”

Jughead’s face morphed into a minor amount of alarm. “Dad...”

FP easily broke into the conversation, and it was easy to tell that both Alice and FP were Slytherins in school, well versed at verbal subterfuge and sparring that detracted and distracted from the blurry line between truth and lie.

“Well, hung out a bit. What can I say? I’m a movie buff.”

Both Alice and FP laughed, while Betty’s heart raced in her chest. Alice leaned forward a bit. “So, tell me, FP. Were you upset when Hiram Lodge bought the land and Twilight building?”

FP shrugged. “Stuff happens.”

Alice narrowed her eyes at the cavalier response. “Let me rephrase that question. Were you surprised?”

A sharp crack echoed outside the house, and Betty leapt to her feet at the sound of Apparation. Everyone turned their eyes to her, and she smiled winningly at the table, although she was sure her face was pale and cheeks flushed.

“I’m going to go see who that is,” she said, turning and using the dining room side entrance to slip into the hallway instead of taking the long way around through the living room.

Hal stood at the door, glancing this way and that, holding a bottle of wine.

“Dad,” breathed Betty in relief, “Hi. Thank Merlin you’re here.”

Hal’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise, but he followed his daughter around the living room and the kitchen.

Alice turned in her seat and glared at him when he appeared, and he hovered awkwardly for a moment, Betty beside him.

“I thought you said she wanted me to be here,” he whispered to her.

Betty nodded. “She does,” she whispered back, and then spoke louder, “And our families should be coming together. Right, Mom? It’s the same as when we were kids.”

There was a beat or two of silence, and then Hal – ever the loyal Hufflepuff – moved to the opposite head of the table from Alice, next to FP, and sat in the chair. He plonked the bottle of wine down beside him.

Betty retrieved an extra plate from the cupboard in the kitchen, and handed it to him. Hal began spooning food onto his plate, and, taking that as invitation, both Jughead and FP began their second serving.

“I’m hoping maybe you have some vacancies down at Sunnyside,” began Hal, turning to FP. “You see, I’ve been sleeping in my office down at the _Prophet_ , and it’s just getting a little chilly at night.”

FP chuckled. “I bet your office beats the trailer park.”

Hal chuckled himself, but it was a little bitter. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You see, Alice here, she’s been redecorating the _Prophet_. Last week, she pointed her wand at me and cast _bombarda_ – destroyed the door and the window. The Aurors came to see what the fuss was about.”

“Is that so?” grinned FP, amusement colouring his tone.

Alice, however, was not so amused as she glared darkly at her husband. “Keep talking, Hal, and the next spell I cast may not be at a window.”

FP glanced between the two Coopers, and a tiny little smirk appeared on his lips. “You remember our Graduation Ball, Alice? Hal? Back in the day?” he turned his eyes to Betty. “Your mom ever tell you about that night?”

Betty, feeling uneasy at the past history between her parents and FP, shook her head. Jughead, too, seemed wary. “Just that she and my dad were king and queen.”

“Yeah, they were,” said FP, fondly reminiscing.

“Of hell,” muttered Hal.

“Dad, _please_ ,” said Betty, glancing at her belligerent father.

FP grinned, but he was baring his teeth. “No, this is a fun story, I promise. Fred and me, we were all set to play at the dance. I was backstage, dropping off our gear when I heard these voices yelling.” He glanced at first Hal, and then Alice. “It was your mom and dad. They were fighting about— about… I don’t know what. But it sounded like life or death.”

Alice’s voice was frosty. “Shut up, FP.”

FP’s retort was just as icy. “Happy to oblige if you are. I don’t care what you think of me, Alice, but don’t jerk me around. Not in front of my son.”

Sensing the dangerous direction the broom was flying, Betty spoke up loudly, hoping to speak over any potential conversation that the adults might start.

“This was such a nice idea, Mom, but I think it’s time that Jug and I head out – Mr. Jones was going to walk us over to the Three Broomsticks to meet Archie and Veronica,” she smiled at her mother, and then her father. “So, is it okay if we skip the peach pie?”

Alice gave a terse nod, and both Betty and Jughead quickly stood, along with FP as a more leisurely pace.

“Thanks again for the meal, Alice,” he said, his tone genial, but his eyes were dark. “Hal – good to see you again.”

“You, too, FP,” said Hal, dipping his head at him while Alice ground her teeth. “I’ll drop by and see you sometime in next week about those trailers.”

“Sounds good,” Jughead’s father replied, and Betty ushered the Jones wizards in front of her and out the side door into the hallway, quickly summoning their jackets. Jughead caught hers and his, and helped her into hers first, earning an approving nod from his father as he did so.

Once outside, Betty felt like she could breath easier – away from the stifling Cooper household and accusatory conversation. Feeling terrible, she turned to FP, who walked on Jughead’s other side, and said, contritely, “I am _so sorry_ , Mr. Jones – I had no idea my mother was going to do that—”

FP laughed – a brittle sound – but waved a hand. “It’s fine, Betty. Alice and I have a long and complicated history. If she wasn’t like that, I would’ve worried that someone used Polyjuice to stand in her place.”

Uncomfortable with the reminder of that specific potion, Betty winced and hoped both Jughead and FP thought it was due to her mother’s actions.

“Still—”

“No, really,” said FP, a bit more firmly this time. “It’s fine, Betty.”

Jughead shot her a look, and she bit her lip, dropping it. Instead, Jughead drew his father into a discussion about the films they saw for his birthday the previous weekend, before the party, and FP responded accordingly until they reached the Three Broomsticks.

“Thanks for walking with us, dad,” said Jughead.

FP nodded. “No problem, Jug. You two heading back to Hogwarts after this?” Betty nodded, and he continued, “Good. Night.”

FP gave a cheeky salute with a flicked finger against his brow, and Jughead and Betty entered the Three Broomsticks, hand-in-hand. Immediately, they spotted Archie’s vibrant red hair in a booth, next to Veronica and Kevin – surprisingly – sitting opposite them.

“Hi, you two!” Veronica greeted them as they drew up along the table. “How was dinner?”

“The food was delicious,” said Jughead, “the conversation, less so.”

Betty grimaced. “My mom took it as opportunity to grill Mr. Jones.”

Veronica made a sympathetic face while Archie glanced at Jughead in concern and Kevin muttered, “Yikes. The full Basilisk stare of Mrs. C. Terror and danger in a single glance.”

Jughead waited for Betty to slide into the booth first, and then followed her, resting his arm along the back and trailing over her shoulder. Kevin glanced at it, so near his, and then stared at Betty and Jughead, his eyes wide and mouth pressed in a firm, closed seam.

With his eyes darting at her and Jughead’s arm, Betty rolled her eyes. _Honestly,_ she thought, _it was like they didn’t even know we’re dating._

Conversation flowed amongst the five, ranging from the upcoming Halloween Ball on Monday evening, to what songs Archie was going to do – and with Mary Andrews back in town, Archie wanted to showcase his talent to his mother, whom he rarely saw since the separation.

Without noticing, Cheryl strolled over to their table, stopping just shy of Veronica’s elbow, one hip cocked out with her hand on it.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have an announcement to make,” she said, turning to face Betty. “One that tangentially involves you, Betty. I’m bringing Polly to the dance as my date, and we’re campaigning as co-queens of Halloween Ball.”

Betty, confused, asked, “Because why?”

“ _Because_ , you doxy, by all rights, it should’ve been Polly and Jason on that stage being crowned,” snapped Cheryl. She rolled her eyes expressively. “This is the next best thing. So –  don’t forget to vote, and I’ll see everyone at my coronation!”

Cheryl turned on her heel and left the table, flummoxed and silent. Eventually, Archie cleared his throat and ventured, “Betty, about the Halloween Ball — I kind of told my mom that—” Betty made a face – one partially alarmed and the other, partially wincing and Archie spotted it. “Whoa, you don’t want me to perform? Don’t you like my music?”

She shifted awkwardly on the bench. “No, no it’s not that, Archie, it’s just, um— this dance needs to be fun. And your songs, as amazing as they are—”

Jughead helpfully broke in. “They make you want to _Avada_ yourself.” Both Betty and Veronica shot him dark glares. He blinked and hurriedly added, “In a good way.”

“In an amazing way,” jumped in Kevin loyally.

Veronica turned to Betty, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But no need to fret, Betty. ‘Cause Archie asked me to sing with him, and we’re thinking about doing some upbeat covers.”

Archie blinked at Veronica in surprise. “We are?”

Veronica stared back at him, her voice hard. “ _Aren’t_ we?”

Betty frowned. “Aren’t you performing with the Pussycats, V?”

“No, I still am,” confirmed Veronica with a sharp grin. “But I had to take pity on the poor wizard here, didn’t I?”

“Hey, now, wait a minute—”

“Please, Archiekins. What else were you thinking of doing for your performance? You’re persona-non-grata to Val and the Pussycats – who else would help you out?”

Archie scowled. “I could make due, Ronnie—”

Veronica smiled patronizingly at him, patting his hand that rested on the table. “I’m sure you could, but with a Lodge at your side, it’ll be more than ‘making due,’ it’ll be _magnifique_!”

“Speaking of something magnificent,” said Kevin, glancing at his watch, “is getting my full eight hours of beauty sleep. We should head back now.”

Agreements were made around with everyone else, and slowly they gathered up jackets and bags (in the case of Kevin), and began to trudge through the cold evening air outside of the Three Broomsticks back to Hogwarts.

The path back to Hogwarts – when students weren’t using the hidden passages – was long and windy, curling around the Black Lake past the train station, all the way up along the Eversgreen Forest towards the Forbidden Forest, and then to the main gates, protected by the gargoyles of two winged pigs, their wings outstretched and their bodies facing forward.

Waiting for them at the gates was Hagrid, impatiently checking his pocket watch for Hogsmeade stragglers. In his other hand was a lantern.

“Cuttin’ it a bit close, you lot,” he rumbled, huffing and shifting his weight underneath his large frame and shaggy coat.

“Sorry, Professor,” they chorused, and slipped past him.

Once inside the castle, Kevin and Archie peeled off with ‘goodnights’ punctuated with yawns, heading up to the Gryffindor Tower while Betty, Veronica, and Jughead made their way down, towards the dungeons and kitchens.

Veronica squeezed Betty’s arm, brushing by her with a wink and whispered, “I’ll head down first to give you time to say goodnight to your wizard.”

Betty grinned, and turned to face Jughead. He held out his arms invitingly, and she immediately slipped into them, cuddling and pressing close. She inhaled and his scent – pine, musty old books and leather – greeted her. She sighed happily.

His hand smoothed down her back, resting low while his other arm caged her in by stretching across her shoulders.

“I am sorry about earlier,” whispered Betty into his chest.

She felt more than heard his reply, his voice vibrating his chest. “You had an idea it was going to happen. I think you managed to mitigate most of the damage.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she protested. “I don’t think your father killed Jason, at all. There are more suspects elsewhere and she knows that.”

“People believe what they want to believe,” countered Jughead tiredly. “You can’t change years of established opinion. Especially not when it concerns my family.”

“It’s wrong, Juggie.”

He brushed his lips against her hair. “A lot of things are wrong, Betts. It’s not your job to fix them.”

She sighed deeply, not wanting to argue with him. Instead, she squeezed him tighter, and then released, taking a step back.

He peered down at her, a small, fond smile on his lips. “You free tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “Homework – and then after lunch on Monday, Kev and I are excused from classes to get all the decorations up for the Halloween Ball.”

Jughead sighed. His hand reached out and fiddled with a strand of hair that fell from her ponytail. He murmured, “Until then, Juliet?”

Betty smiled at him, leaning forward on her toes and brushing her lips against his. “Until then.”

*

Polly used her mirror at the worst possible time on Monday. Betty was on a ladder, directing her wand at some streamers to hang across the rafters of the Great Hall. From her jean pocket she could hear the tinny sounds of her sister’s voice calling, “Betty Cooper? Betty?”

Betty carelessly flicked her wand and the streamers flew through the air, haphazardly twining around the wooden beam before trailing to the floor, waiting for her next command. She reached into her pocket and fished out the compact, opening it and breathlessly saying, “Polly, thank Merlin, what’s going on? And why are you running to be the Halloween Ball co-queen with Cheryl?”

Polly’s face in the tiny mirror blinked. Then, with a quick glance around the room she was in, said, “To keep her distracted.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open and she clutched the mirror closer. “What? Did you find something?”

“Not yet,” said Polly, shaking her head. Her voice was low. “But they’re definitely hiding things.”

“Remember our deal, Polly, if you don’t find anything by the end of the week, it’s over you’re coming home,” cautioned Betty.

Polly’s eyes widened as she heard something on her end. She hurriedly breathed, “I just have to get into their bedroom. They protect it obsessively.” She then turned her head and shouted, “ _Coming_!”

Betty frowned. “Well, you’re not putting yourself in any danger, are you?”

“Betty, I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

“Pol! Polly!” hissed Betty, but the mirror rippled and Polly’s image distorted until Betty was staring at her own face.

She stared at it, flabbergasted for a minute or two, before someone calling her name startled her. She turned, only to realize it was a fourth year Gryffindor asking where to put some decorations – and once the directions were given, Betty turned back to the compact in her hand.

 _I hope you know what you’re doing, Polly_ , she thought, slipping it back into her pocket. She returned to directing the streamers, and once she was done that, Betty moved to the next item on her mental checklist.

Later, when she was with Kevin, in front of the partially-assembled stage, her mother appeared.

“There you are,” she said, almost as though she had searched Hogwarts from top to bottom looking for Betty, despite knowing she was on the decoration committee.

“Mom,” said Betty, while Kevin greeted, “Mrs. C.”

Alice nodded once at Kevin, and then turned her full attention on her youngest daughter. “Your efforts for this evening are... satisfactory, Betty.” She turned a critical eye above them at the twining streamers of black and orange, as well as the numerous pumpkins around the Hall that other students were having fun carving. “It’s all very... _American_.”

“It’s Halloween,” replied Betty. “Would you expect differently?”

Alice pursed her lips. “It’s _Samhain_ , and it’s fairly important for witches and wizards instead of this Muggle commercial holiday.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “You never took part in Samhain celebrations before.”

Alice looked at her nails. “Well, I might want to start. After all, Hogsmeade is hosting a bonfire and dinner. Your father and FP are going to it.”

Betty blinked. “ _Really_? Dad and Mr. Jones?” A pleased smile stretched across her lips.

“Don’t get too pleased,” warned Alice, frowning. “I’m chaperoning the dance tonight – so I’ll know if you and Jughead get up to anything inappropriate, young lady.”

“Mom,” groaned Betty, glancing embarrassedly at Kevin, who was doing his best to all at once not pay attention to the conversation while paying incredible attention. “Jug’s a gentleman. He _always_ is.”

“Hmm.” Alice eyed her a moment longer, and then shook her head. “Well, we’ll find out tonight, won’t we? I’m heading back home to change. I’ll see you in a few hours, Betty, dear.” She glanced at the Auror’s son standing beside Betty and said, “Kevin.”

Both Betty and Kevin watched her in silence until she disappeared out of the Great Hall. Then, Kevin immediately turned to her and grinned, “ _Always_ a gentleman, huh? What does that wizard get up, too?”

Betty flushed. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Kevin’s eyebrows shot up and a grin spread across his face. “My, my, Miss Cooper. Just _what_ have you and Jughead Jones gotten up to, lately?”

Betty balled her hand and socked Kevin lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t make me get my wand out, now,” she threatened, but the grin on her face belayed her words.

“Ooo,” grinned Kevin, hands up to ward her off. “Anyway – don’t you need to go be girly and get ready? I think Veronica is waiting for you.”

“Oh?” Betty asked. “Have you seen her?”

Kevin frowned. “She and Archie have been in and out all afternoon. Didn’t they stop by to see you? You’re pretty easy to find.”

Betty’s brows puckered as she thought back – at no point did her two friends stop to see her while decorating, and she had been in the Great Hall all afternoon. So had Kevin – and if they had seen _him_ , but not _her_...

Unease bubbled.

“You know what, I probably did see them, but it was for such a short moment that I can’t really remember,” said Betty breezily. By Kevin’s frown, she didn’t succeed. “I should go – you’re right, it’s getting late. I’ll see V in the dorm.”

Betty hurried to the dungeons, straight into the Hufflepuff dorm, bursting through the hobbit-doors, and expecting to see Veronica in the middle of getting ready, or still in her silk robes, applying makeup – but the dorm was empty.

Her dress hung on a hook outside the bathroom door, and in the bathroom, their vanity was still covered with designer eye-shadow cases and lotion bottles, but otherwise, there was no presence of Veronica.

Fighting a pout, Betty stripped of her clothing and stepped into the shower, beginning her getting-ready motions from shampoo, condition and body wash; she used her wand to remove unwanted hair on her legs and underarms, and then carefully began styling her hair, which was decided as straight and down. Her makeup came next.

She stepped out of the bathroom, and the dorm was still empty.

 _Where on earth did she go, to get ready?_ wondered Betty, glancing this way and that for a clue. With a sigh, she reached for her silver dress, and slipped it on. A glance at her bedside table and clock nearly read seven, and she was eager to meet her date.

The mystery of her friend and Archie could be solved later, especially if it was early enough in the evening that she could suss out what they were planning.

Jughead was waiting for her outside the Hufflepuff dorm; she was insanely happy that they were both from low-dwelling Hogwarts Houses, and she didn’t have to travel the stones and stairs up to the Entrance Hall to meet him, like other couples.

He had his back to her, his hands stuffed deep in his black dress robes – cut to resemble a tailcoat –, worn over top of dress trousers and shiny black shoes she had never seen on him before.

“Juggie,” she called, her voice soft. It echoed through the silent hallway.

He spun, and Betty immediately noticed the dark blue shirt he wore under the robes, and the matching silver tie to her silver dress.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Just... Betts... _wow_.”

She smiled and ducked her head, tossing some of her long hair over her shoulder. She glanced up at him. “Ready to go?”

“Anywhere,” he replied, offering her his elbow, which she took.

They walked from the Hufflepuff dorms, past the kitchens, and up towards the Great Hall. The closer they got, the louder it became, with the noise of hundreds of students talking and mingling alongside old Hogwarts alumni and the professors.

As they rose from the floor below, Jughead slowed his steps. “Betty, tonight after the dance, I’d like to talk to you about something. It has to do with my dad.”

She turned to him in surprise, concern written on her face.  “Is everything okay?”

Jughead glanced at her. “Yeah... Actually, things are great. Better than they’ve been in a while.” He swallowed thickly and stopped just as they reached the top step, his voice dropping. “I just... kind of want to figure something out together.”

Betty squeeze his elbow. “Okay. I look forward to it.”

He grinned down at her, and they entered the Great Hall together. The two prominent colours were orange and black; enchanted bats flew low from the ceilings, brushing the tops of people’s hair and swooshing back to the rafters, which were hidden from view by dark, swirling shadows above them. Jack-o’-lanterns with creepy, funny, and celebrity faces floated between floating candles, dripping red wax that disappeared before hitting the floor or any witch or wizard. Fog kissed Betty’s ankles, thicker around the stage, which looked like it was rising from the floor.

“Wow!” said Jughead, eyes wide. “You did a great job here!”

“Thanks Juggie,” she replied, eyes roving across the crowds of students and parents, only to linger on Kevin, who seemed to be caught between Midge and Moose. “Oh, Merlin! Will you be okay alone here for a second?”

He grinned at her. “I think I should be fine.”

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, leaning up and forward, kissing him on the cheek, and then rushing to her friends’ side. As soon as he spotted her, relief drained the tension from his face.

“Midge!” greeted Betty, completely ignoring Moose. “There you are!”

Midge turned to Betty, looking gorgeous in a tight red dress that was short at her thighs but covered her neck and arms. “Betty. Hi.”

“Listen,” began Betty, looping her arm through Midge’s, and directing her away from Moose and Kevin, although her friend began to follow at a discrete distance behind as they walked. “I was wondering – you do such a great job at announcing the Quidditch matches, have you thought about doing that professionally?”

Midge scrunched up her face. “Professionally? Not really, no. I wasn’t really sure what to do, even though I already had my career counselling session.”

Betty grinned, moving her through the crowd to the one person she was looking for. “No? Well, I happen to know someone whose family has an interest in racing, and they could probably set up an interview...” she threw her voice, loudly, at the wizard in question, who turned at her approach. “Isn’t that right, Reggie?”

The tall Gryffindor was dressed in red dress robes, also in a tail-coat fashion (Betty was beginning to suspect where Jughead may have gotten his dress robes), with a checkered pattern. Reggie’s cheek was bulging from the snack he had shoved in, and he quickly chewed and swallowed.

“What’s right?” he asked, thickly.

Betty stared at him. “That your family has racing horses, and Midge’s _such_ a great announcer, that maybe your father could put in a good word for her at the race track?”

“Oh?” Reggie frowned. Then, his eyes widened and a grin split his lips. “Oh! Yeah!” he turned to Midge, suddenly bashful. “We could... um, we could... talk about it?”

Midge gave him an entirely unimpressed look, and turned to Betty with a long-suffering sigh and a glare that meant _I know what you’re doing here,_ but she turned back to Reggie and said, “Tell me about your family’s business, Mantle.”

Reggie lit up, and he gallantly placed a hand at Midge’s back and led her to a nearby table, leaving Betty and Kevin alone.

“Masterful,” breathed Kevin, coming up to her side.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

While the Great Hall looked gorgeous, thanks to her and Kevin’s efforts, Betty knew there was a trouble brewing. Veronica and Archie had determinedly dodged her since that afternoon, and she wanted to know why.

“So... Kev.” Kevin turned to her. “Have you seen Archie and Veronica?”

Just as she spoke, her eyes flitting past him, she spotted the two loitering around the punch. “Oh, never mind, I see them.”

She was about to walk over, _damn her heels with this dress for making me take tiny steps_ , when she saw her mother, who had agreed to chaperone along with a few other parents from Hogsmeade, sidle up to the two. She hissed under her breath, “What the hell?”

“ _There_ you are, Ms. Cooper.” Betty jumped and spun, and spotted Headmistress McGonagall peering down at her, Josie’s mother standing beside her. The elderly witch frowned. “Mayor McCoy would like to review the evening’s itinerary with you.”

Betty plastered a smile on her face. “What can I do for you, Mayor McCoy?”

“Well, firstly, I was wondering...” Betty tried to concentrate on what the mayor was saying, but her eyes kept darting over to where her mother stood with Archie and Veronica, the other two nodding and looking at her solemnly. “ ...Would you walk me up?”

Betty blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

“To the stage?” finished Mayor McCoy, glancing at it to make her point clearer.

Betty shook her head. “Oh. Actually, Professor McGonagall, will you do the honors? I have to—Go. Excuse me.”

Betty rushed away from the two, around a few clusters of students and then around Moose and Chuck with a wide circle, until she appeared at the punch table. Archie startled a bit, spilling some of the fruity liquid onto his hand.

“Where were you guys?” demanded Betty. “You said you’d be here at the start, in case I needed last minute help setting up. And you weren’t here for the sound check!”

“We stopped...” Archie trailed off, looking at Veronica desperately.

She looked back. “We stopped... at the Three Broomsticks.”

Betty stared. “And what were you just talking to my mom about?”

Veronica stared back. “Betty...”

Archie, panicked, burst, “Guys, can we table this? We need to get ready.” He tugged at Veronica, who allowed herself to be pulled away, towards the edge of the stage where they would be performing. “Come on.”

Betty grit her teeth and crossed her arms, staring after them.

Jughead eventually found her, glaring daggers at her friends. He touched her on her arm. “Everything okay?”

Betty shook her head, trying to loosen her jaw. “Something’s up.”

Jughead peered at her, and then drew her away from the crowd of students to the side of the punch table. “Anything I go do to help?”

Betty sighed heavily. “No, Juggie. I don’t think so.”

Mayor McCoy walked out on the stage, and waved happily to the crowd of students and some Hogwarts alumni. “Friends, students and alumni. I hope you brought your dancing shoes. Please join me in welcoming to the stage Hogwarts’ very own Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge!”

Spotlights picked out the two, standing at opposite ends of the stage. Archie seemed to be getting over his stage fright, because he immediately began strumming his guitar and Veronica grinned at him.

Archie’s voice, low and smooth, did nothing to calm Betty’s nerves. She knew that her two friends had done _something_ with her mother, but Jughead was still reeling after Alice’s last attempt with the dinner on Saturday night, Betty didn’t want to think or accuse her of something again, so soon.

So she crossed her arms and watched, trying to stop herself from grinding her teeth as Veronica and Archie charmed the Great Hall with their version of the Muff’s _Kids in America_.

The moment they were done, however, Betty raced around the buffet table, straight in the path of Archie and Veronica as they descended the stage, planting herself firmly.

Archie, seeing the familiar look of anger, quickly moved into apology mode. “Before you get mad, let me explain—”

Betty’s nostrils flared in anger, and so did her magic. It crackled along her fingertips, and Archie eyed her warily, taking a step back, while Veronica kept her eyes on her best friend. “Explain what? That you’re working with my mom behind my back?”

Veronica stepped forward. “I’m sorry, B, but you know FP had some kind of arrangement with my dad. I had to make sure it wasn’t about Jason Blossom.”

Betty turned her head to Archie, who eyed her. “And what’s your excuse?”

“Look, can we take this elsewhere?” he asked, looking around. Although there weren’t many eyes on them, Archie felt like they were being judged, and he preferred some privacy for what Betty was sure he knew was a dressing down.

She sighed, and together, the three quickly left the Great Hall and stood in the quiet Entrance Hall, away from the hanging portraits and tapestries. They were half illuminated by flickering wall scones, but otherwise shrouded in shadow.

Betty began tapping her foot to demonstrate her impatience, and Archie winced.

“I was looking out for Jughead in case FP was doing shady stuff,” mumbled Archie.

“To protect him—” sputtered Betty.

Veronica jumped into the conversation, eagerly. “Blame me, Betty. I asked Archie to help me.”

“Help you do what?” in shock, the three had not heard Jughead walk up to them, the happiness in his face slowly melting into solemn confusion and slight fear as he saw his girlfriend with his other best friend, all standing close and hidden in the shadows. “What did you two do?”

His head swiveled back and forth. Unease crept into his voice as he asked, “Guys... Betty... What’s going on? Why do I feel like I’m suddenly left out?”

Betty stared hard at Archie and Veronica, a scowl on her face. “Do you want to tell him or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Jughead’s voice trembled.

“We went to your dad’s trailer to...” Veronica began tentatively, and Archie finished, “To search it, Jughead.”

Jughead gave a tiny, incredulous laugh. “Why would you guys do that?”

Betty snarled, “My mom put them up to it. She was convinced he was hiding something about Jason.”

“We were wrong. All of us. We didn’t find anything,” said Veronica quickly, looking imploringly at her friends’ boyfriend, someone she still didn’t know too well, but desperately wanted to.

Archie applied his own puppy-dog eyes at his friend. “And Jug, we were only doing it to prove that—”

“—That my dad wasn’t a murderer?” Jughead shook his head, his voice brittle. “You went behind my back, Archie?”

“Jug—”

“How did you—” he took a deep breath, eyes tightly closed and his fists clenched as he attempted to control his temper. “When did you guys know to go to my dad’s trailer?”

Archie and Veronica shared a guilty glance. “We knew he was going to the Three Broomsticks with...”

Jughead sighed, and then turned betrayed eyes on Betty. “That’s why your dad invited my dad to dinner? So these two could break into my his trailer on your mom’s suggestion while your dad interrogated him?”

Baffled, Betty shook her head. “ _No_! I didn’t know what they were doing.” She then sighed. “But yes, that is why my mom suggested our dads go eat.”

Jughead stared at her, like he had never seen her before. Betty felt something like fear slither up her spine. “To think I was going to pass on moving out of Hogsmeade to London with my family for you.”

“ _What_?” she gasped.

“When we went to my dad’s trailer, you asked me if I believed him,” continued Jughead, and suddenly the conversation was about her – and whatever she did or didn’t do – and not Archie and Veronica’s indiscretions.

Confused, Betty said, “I said I did...”

“Wasn’t that good enough for you?” snapped Jughead.

Betty took a step forward. “It _was_. It _was_ good enough. I didn’t–” she shook her head. “I tried to stop her.”

Undaunted, Jughead continued, “You could’ve told me, you could’ve warned me about this.”

Anger flared. “Excuse me? You were so excited about our dads hanging out, Jug, I didn’t want to disappoint you. I knew she had something planned, but when does she _not_ have something planned?”

“So instead you lied?” asked Jughead, the anger in his voice masking the hurt Betty could hear. Jughead turned back to Archie and Veronica. “ You all lied to me?”

 From down near the Great Hall, Kevin came skidding out, Alice, Hermione, and both of Archie’s parents quickly following on his heels.

“There they are!” Kevin shouted, calling over his shoulder. He raced forward, calling, “Betty!”

“Thank Merlin—” gasped Alice as she came to a stop near the group of four.

Betty glared at her. “Mom, don’t—”

Kevin shook his head and lurched forward, grabbing onto Betty’s hands and looking at her, and then Jughead. “No, you have to listen. All of you. My dad just told Mayor McCoy about your dad, Jughead.”

Everyone stilled, and Jughead drew himself up.  “What about my dad?”

Betty held her breath.

Kevin stared at Jughead, his own face pale. “He was just arrested. For the murder of Jason Blossom.”

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late chapter. The plan was to have the story done by - essentially, tomorrow - but real life got in the way. Much of the final chapter is done, already, as I was writing bits and pieces of the scenes instead of linearly. 
> 
> I'll be working on the next chapter ASAP, as I do want this story done so I can move onto my others, but I can't make any promises on internet connection! As of Wednesday, I am on vacation in Central America; when I return, it's pre-school year prep for last minute things and teaching meetings; and lastly, if you've caught an idea on my [tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com), you'll know that my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer two weeks ago and we've all been rushing around setting up her appointments and driving her to them. We're still not sure how bad it is, but it's severe enough she needs immediate surgery, so the family is kind of rallying and running about.
> 
> That said, Bughead and Riverdale fanfiction is a lovely escape from reality, as are comments - so... leave your thoughts on the direction this story is going and your thoughts on that **amazing** deleted Bughead scene from 1x13!!


	22. Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overcast and meh today, so I finished the chapter I was working on! What do I do when on vacation? Apparently binge watch TV shows and write fanfiction to avoid being bit by bugs.
> 
> Enjoy!

*

XXII: Worth Fighting For

*

 **Frodo** : I can’t do this, Sam.

 **Sam** : I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

 **Frodo** : What are we holding onto, Sam?

 **Sam** : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it’s worth fighting for.

\- _Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers_ (movie), 2002

*

It seemed that whenever there was a single, perfect moment between her and Jughead, something had to come crashing down against it, destroying them in the process.

Immediately following Kevin’s announcement, white noise filled Betty’s brain and she hesitated a moment too long – and Jughead had escaped, pushing past Archie and her and down and out of the Entrance Hall, out onto the Hogwarts grounds and disappearing into the night.

Betty stared at Archie, Veronica, and Kevin for a moment, and then she and Kevin sprung into action, already moving down the steps and towards the main doors, leaving Archie and Veronica behind with their parents, who were shouting after them.

“Where do you think he went?” gasped Kevin, a hand on his side and he and Betty ran across the frozen grounds, past couples half-hidden in alcoves outside in the rose garden, and then past the large clock tower which read ten to eleven.

“Three Broomsticks?” suggested Betty, breathlessly. The two kept quiet then, the only sound in the still evening their panting, and the lone owl.

Together, they raced down from Hogwarts into Hogsmeade, past the train station and right into the Three Broomsticks, throwing the door open with a bang. Kevin leaned against the jam for support as Rosmerta stared at them.

“What in Dumbledore’s name...?”

“Ros, Jughead hasn’t been by, has he?” gasped Betty.

She slowly shook her head, eyeing both her and Kevin, who was doubled over. “Nope. Not tonight, lovely.” She took in their rumpled dress and dress robes, and a concerned look flashed across her face. “Why don’t you two sit here and catch your breath?”

Kevin and Betty went to the bar, their shoulders touching and Rosmerta slid over two Butterbeers from them. “On the house, dears,” she promised, winking, and then returned to the other side of the bar where a blond-haired wizard was nursing a drink and reading a parchment.

“Where are we going to look next?” whispered Kevin.

Betty bit her lip. “The trailer,” she said. “But I’ll also call him on the mirror.” She pulled it out, tucked with a permanent sticking charm on the inside hem of her bodice, and said, firmly, “Jughead Jones.”

The mirror reflected her face, and nothing else.

She tried again, more forcefully. “ _Jughead Jones_!”

Nothing – not even a ripple.

She wanted to cry, and Kevin reached over and put his arm around her. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

“Merlin!” she burst out, burying her face in her hands as she tried to hide her tears. “How could she? How could my mom do that to him?”

“What? What happened?” asked Kevin.

Betty looked up. “My _mom_ happened, Kev! She invited him and Mr. Jones to dinner on Saturday and made an entire production of asking him about Jason’s death, and then tonight – _tonight, God_ – she somehow convinced Archie and Veronica to break into their home to look for evidence that would prove he killed Jason!”

Kevin frowned. “But... surely there was something, or else my father wouldn’t’ve arrested him?”

Betty helplessly shrugged. “I don’t know, Kev. But I believed him when he said he didn’t do it.”

Kevin looked around the bar for some Kleenex, or a towel, for Betty – he wasn’t about to conjure or charm something of the Three Broomstick’s into a tissue for her though, risking Madam Rosmerta’s ire.

“Here.”

The two teens looked over and saw the blond-haired wizard leaning across the bar, using his index finger to float over a cloth handkerchief. With a sniffle, Betty reached out and gingerly plucked it from the air.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, delicately blowing her nose into it. She looked down, as though unsure whether to return it or keep it.

The wizard solved it for her. “Erm – it’s fine. You can keep it.”

She nodded, squinting at him. _He looks familiar_. But before she could ask him about it, he turned back to his parchment, clearly dismissing the conversation.

She sighed, fingering the stitched initials on the bottom corner, just as the Broomsticks’ doors opened again, and Veronica and Archie stumbled through.

“Madam Rosmerta!” they chorused together. Archie continued, “Have you seen Jughead?”

“You’re not the only one who’s come looking for him,” she said, and then rolled her eyes and pointed at Kevin and Betty at the bar. The two newcomers turned their attention on their other friends, and hurried over.

“Betty,” breathed Archie, falling onto the stool next to her, while Veronica climbed onto the other, next to Archie.

“Thank goodness!” the raven haired Hufflepuff gushed.

“I’m not talking to you, either of you, ever again.” Betty stared at them both for a moment before deliberately turning in the other direction, presenting her back to them while Kevin stared at them from over her shoulder.

“Betty, _please_ , it’s about Jughead,” pled Veronica, leaning forward, nearly parallel with the sticky bar top. “We saw Auror Keller on our way here, talking to some of his deputies. And he said that FP is claiming he was Oblivated, but they used Priori Incantatum on his wand. Apparently he cast the Killing Curse! And that killed Jason.”

Archie reached to touch her shoulder. “But Betty, we searched FP’s trailer. He’s being framed – we both know that he’s working for my dad for the past month and he’s been using construction spells since. There’s no way his wand would only recently show the Killing Curse.”

“Someone planted a new wand in FP’s trailer – the one that killed Jason – or they stole FP’s wand from him and cast the Curse to turn it into the murder weapon,” continued Veronica. Kevin’s eyes were wide. “But there wasn’t a spare wand when we searched the trailer – I promise. And FP has his wand when Auror Keller brought him in.”

“He’s being framed, Betty,” finished Archie.

Betty glanced over her shoulder. “Well, maybe you didn’t see it.”

Veronica scoffed. “We’re not talking about the Vogue closet here, B—”

“Well, maybe you looked in the wrong one,” said Betty, grasping at ideas.

Archie stared at her. “Betty, _you’ve been there_. It’s a trailer with literally one closet. There was no spare wand.”

“So... whatever my dad is saying he found, it wasn’t there,” said Kevin slowly, his expression saying he was thinking furiously. “Where did my dad find it, then?”

Archie shook his head. “Who knows? Look, we need to tell Jughead his dad’s innocent.” He paused and looked around. “Where is Jughead?”

Betty let out a loud, frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I tried calling him. He’s not answering his mirror.”

“His mirror?” asked Veronica.

Betty sighed. “The mirror Kevin and I share?” at Veronica’s nod but Archie’s stare, Betty continued, “I made one for Jughead for his birthday. And I have one for both of you, too, so we can stay in contact.” She looked hard at the other two friends. “You know, _in case one of us feels betrayed and goes missing._ ”

Archie looked abashed but Veronica was unrepentant. “We had our reasons—”

“Because of your father? Thinking _he_ is involved in this somehow?” bit Betty.

“He might be!” snapped back Veronica, her eyes wide. “You didn’t read the letter he sent me from Nuremgard, Betty – he _threatened_ my mother – I paid the Serpents to trash the Twilight so the land value was low—”

“Should we really be saying all this here?” asked Kevin, loudly, breaking into the conversation. The two Hufflepuffs stopped and discretely looked around the Three Broomsticks, just as the few patrons in the pub went back to looking at their drinks.

“In the meantime—” continued Kevin, but Betty spoke over him. “Should we talk to Auror Keller?”

Archie all but yelled, “No!” at Kevin’s face, he flushed and said, quieter, “Not until we tell our parents.”

Even Veronica stared at him. “That we broke into FP’s trailer?”

Archie was resolute. “My dad will know what to do.”

Kevin shook his head. “I don’t see this ending well.”

Betty agreed, silently, with her friend. But Veronica was already standing, sighing, with Archie ready to go. Both Betty and Kevin reluctantly slid off their stools to join them. When they walked past the blond wizard who gave Betty the handkerchief, she felt eyes on her. She turned, and her green eyes met the wizard’s green eyes.

Just as quickly, he looked away, and then Archie was urging her faster, and they were outside the Three Broomsticks and the strange wizard was no more in her mind.

By the time they arrived at the street where Betty and Archie lived, it was close to midnight and the air temperature had dropped further, leaving them shivering and huddling – as the girls were in their dresses and the Gryffindors in their dress robes. None had the foresight to cast warming charms.

The lights were on the Andrews’, so Archie led them up the porch and into the living room. Immediately, they were assaulted by the raised voices of their parents, demanding to know where they had gone.

Betty waited until most of the shouting was done. She then turned to her mother, and before Archie and Veronica could say anything, demanded, “Kevin said someone tipped off his dad, was it you?”

The room fell silent, and Alice stared, gobsmacked, at her daughter.

“W-What?” she sputtered, looking around the room at the other adults – Fred and Mary Andrews, Hermione Lodge – for support and finding none. “I was at the dance, Betty...”

Betty narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Answer the damn question, Mom. And don’t lie. Was it you?”

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment, their faces mirrored expressions of mistrust and exasperation. Finally, Alice said, firmly, “It was not.”

Betty relaxed.

“But in the spirit of demanding answers – where were you?” asked Alice, turning the table on her daughter and addressing her and her friends.

“Kevin and I went to the Three Broomsticks to find Jughead,” answered Betty, glancing at her friend who stood next to her.

“Did you find him?” asked Fred, concern on his face.

Kevin shook his head.

Archie winced and then hedged, “Ah – Ronnie and I... um...”

“Oh, spit it out, Andrews,” the other Hufflepuff muttered from her place next to him, her own arms crossed.

“We kind of broke into FP’s trailer,” muttered Archie, looking at the ceiling.

“You did what?!”

Archie looked at his father to answer, feeling he’d best understand in a room filled with angry witches. “We had to make sure FP wasn’t involved in Jason’s murder. And now we know the truth.”

“He _was_ ,” protested Alice, her mouth firmly pressed closed.

“What? Mom, no!” Betty uncrossed her arms and held them out imploringly.

“We just told you,” sighed Archie.

“The wand was planted,” finished Veronica, looking at her mother for support. “It was the wand that killed Jason, but it’s not FP’s!”

“Couldn’t you have just missed it?” asked Hermione, frowning as she looked at Veronica.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, excuse me if I trust the detection skills of an officer of the law over three amateur sleuths.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open and sparks danced over her fingers. “Mom,” she began angrily, “ _you’re_ the one who asked Veronica to break in!”

Silence, and then:

“Excuse me?”

“What!”

“Alice?!”

Veronica cleared her throat. “Actually I approached Mrs. Cooper. I had to know if FP was involved,” and here she looked apologetically at her mother, “and if he was connected to my dad.”

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, breathing deeply. “A wand was found, which cast the Killing Curse. FP is the killer. Case closed. We’re leaving.”

Archie shouted, “ _There was no wand_!”

Fred and Mary stared at their son, who rarely raised his voice, and finally, gently, Fred said, “Son, this isn’t petty theft or a bar fight we’re talking about, Archie. This is murder.”

The two Andrews men stared at each other for a moment, and then Archie mulishly ground out between tight lips, “Okay, fine. Then we’ll go to the Aurors without you.”

Finally, Mary spoke. “Archie, you entered FP’s residence illegally. So whatever you did or did not find there would be inadmissible in a court of law.”

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped the DMLE before,” scoffed Archie, a very dark tone that was so out of character for him that all the adults paused. This allowed him to continue. “I don’t care what happens to me.”

Fred stood. “ _I_ care.” His eyes started on his son, but quickly roved over to Betty as he spoke. “FP may have ruined Jughead’s life, I’m not going to let him ruin yours.”

Alice, from opposite Betty and leaning against the wall, nodded along. “While I am so glad that you’re safe, Betty, this _must_ end. As much as I like Jughead, I am so glad that you are done with that family.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. “‘Done’? I love Jughead. He’s as much my family as you are, more so right now.”

Alice inhaled sharply. Betty felt Kevin still beside her, his eyes hot on her as she stared at her mother. Not finding what she was looking for, Betty turned on her heel. “C’mon guys. We need to find Jug.”

“You are not going anywhere, young lady,” called Alice, just as Fred shouted, “Arch! Come back here! _Arch_!”

Betty spun back just before the front door, locating her mother squeezed next to Hermione, who was also standing in the space between the living room and entrance hall. It was hard to believe that just over a week ago, Betty had watched FP through Chuck Clayton out the very same door.

“I am going to look for Jughead,” announced Betty, looking at her mother and then the other adults. Archie and Veronica were solid forms at her side, and Kevin already had the door open. “Do not push me tonight, Mom, because I will push back.”

She waited to see if her mother would say anything else, but the flabbergasted look on her mother’s face was the last thing Betty saw; and then she slammed the door shut.

For a moment, the four stood on the porch silently. Then, Betty took a deep breath and began ordering them. “We need to find him. Kev and I are going to the trailer to see if he’s there; we’ll then come back through the Whomping Willow passage. Archie, you and V search Hogsmeade. We’ll meet at the Entrance Hall in Hogwarts in an hour and search the castle.”

Archie and Veronica agreed, and she and Kevin darted off in the opposite direction. They found nothing, and met up with the other two in the Entrance Hall. When they did, both Archie and Veronica, cheeks flushed from the cold air outside, shook their heads.

“Okay,” muttered Betty. “We need to go to the Hufflepuff dorm. I want to give you your mirrors now in case we need them. And then we’ll split up and search the castle.”

There was no pomp in the mirrors the same way that there had been as gifts for Polly and Jughead; Archie and Veronica received theirs purely as a form of convenience, and there had been no hesitation in giving blood to connect the mirrors, either.

“We’ll go to Sytherin,” offered Veronica. “I think I might know some people who will let us in to search the dorms.”

“We’ll go up,” suggested Betty, thinking of the Room of Requirements and what she and Jughead got up to in there.

The group split again, and Betty quickly walked back and forth in front of the wall, yanking the handle open the moment it appeared, while Archie waited outside. While the room was the same that she and Jughead had spent hours in, exploring one another, it was unfortunately empty of her boyfriend.

Betty left the empty Room of Requirement, and saw Archie standing, waiting for her outside. He looked up at her approach.

“Anything?” he asked, looking hopefully past her as she shut the door.

Betty shook her head. “No.”

“Try him again on the mirror,” suggested Archie, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

“Or maybe, the only friends he has just completely betrayed him,” said Betty quietly. “He doesn’t want to be found, Arch.”

Suddenly, Archie started, his hand moving to his dress robe pocket.

“Is that him?” asked betty, her voice hopeful as Archie drew out the gentleman’s mirror she gave him.

He shook his head, activating it. “No, it’s Veronica. Hi, Ronnie.”

“Hey,” she replied through the mirror, her voice tinny and small. “Any luck?”

“Not really,” replied Archie.

“Where are you?” she asked, and he tilted the mirror as Betty pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him to look into it.

“I’m with Betty, on the seventh floor. We still can’t find Jughead,” he answered.

Betty watched as the Veronica in the mirror frowned contemplatively, and then turned to hear something Kevin said. She nodded and turned back to her mirror, and Betty leaned forward to hear what she had to say.

“Archiekins, I just had a thought. What’s the one place in this school that’s open 24 hours?” a knowing look appeared in her eyes. “Hint, we were just at a similar place in Hogsmeade.”

Betty and Archie shared a look, both saying at the same time, “The kitchens!”

Veronica grinned. “We’ll come meet you.”

Minutes later, Betty and Archie met up with Veronica and Kevin, who had been searching from the bottom up as they did the top down, just outside the portrait of fruit.

“Who wants the honours?” asked Veronica, and Archie reached forward and tickled the pear. It giggled, and the heavy frame swung open.

The group jostled to fit through, pushing and shoving against each other, and then stopped completely at the sight before them.

“Told you,” whispered Veronica smugly.

Jughead sat at one of the benches and tables directly underneath the Slytherin table in the Great Hall above them, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him, in his bright checkered red dress robes, was Reggie.

Upon seeing them, Reggie stood, clapping a hand on Jughead’s shoulder as he did so. Jughead winced. “I’ll leave you be. If you need to talk, you know where I am, Slyther-snot.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Reggie.”

Archie watched as his roommate walked by them, whistling and his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and gave him a wide breadth. He then turned back to Jughead the moment Reggie left the kitchens.

“Jug, we’re so sorry,” he began, and Veronica picked up after him.

“About everything.”

Archie continued while Betty and Kevin moved silently to the opposite side of the table he was seated at, slipping on to the bench. “Breaking into your dad’s trailer was wrong, but at least some good came out of it.”

Jughead snorted, looking pointedly away from Archie, who came to a stop behind him. “Pretty sure my dad was just arrested for murder.”

Veronica shook her head, placing a hand on the table to lean her weight on. “That wand he was arrested on? It wasn’t there when we searched his trailer. Someone put it there after we left.”

Jughead’s face morphed from despair to hope in seconds, and he looked at Betty for confirmation. She nodded.

“They’re telling the truth, Juggie,” she said, quietly.

He glanced around at those surrounding him, and Betty was easily able to read the indecision on his face. “What – what do we do now then?” he asked.

Kevin said, “I suggest we talk to my dad. Archie and Veronica had information that relates to the case.”

Clearly blindsided, Jughead stood and allowed Archie and Kevin to lead him from the Hogwarts kitchens, with Veronica and Betty following them.

By the time they were using the Honeydukes secret passage to sneak out (as it was quite late), Jughead and Betty were bringing up the rear while the other three gave them space, leading the way with their wands brightly lit.

“Jug…” began Betty quietly, pitching her voice low so it didn’t carry down the passage. “You need to stop pushing away when things get tough.”

Jughead stiffened beside her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really? You don’t?” she glanced at him in the dark of the passage, his face illuminated only by whatever the wand’s projected. “So you don’t have anything to say regarding last night, accusing me of lying and betraying you?”

If she wasn’t watching his face, Betty would’ve missed the look of contriteness that passed over it. He looked down at his shoes.

“I…”

Betty gave him some time to compose his thoughts.

“I went to that Muggle town,” he finally said. “Greendale.”

Betty stiffened.

“It was…” he trailed off, trying to find the words. “Creepy as anything.” He shivered. “But I used a payphone. I called my mom.”

“Your mother?” Betty asked, confused.

Jughead nodded miserably. “I asked to come visit and stay with her and Jellybean in London. She said… she said it wasn’t a good time. Didn’t even ask why.”

“Oh, Juggie,” breathed Betty, eyes wide.

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Anyway, as soon as the call finished, I left. I didn’t want to stick around, and then came back to the castle. I… I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You _do_ ,” she said, earnestly. “You have all of us: me, Archie, V, Kev… we’re here for you.”

Jughead snorted. “You and Archie, sure. But Kevin? His dad is the one putting mine in the Az. Veronica? She doesn’t know me.”

“And yet,” said Betty quietly. “They’re here.”

Jughead thought on that, as they quieted Honeydukes, and then there was no time to talk as they all ran down the high street, past familiar shops until they reached their destination.

They exploded into the Auror Headquarters in Hogsmeade quickly, pushing through the two main doors and striding up the hallway and the few steps that led to the offices.

An Auror – one Betty recognized as being part of the small group Auror Keller had with him the night she and Jughead found Jason’s Quidditch jersey – met them first.

“Excuse me, sir,” he began, drawing attention. “We need to see Auror Keller. There’s been a huge mistake.”

The Auror looked at the group in confusion, unsure of what to say to the large group of Hogwarts students who just entered demanding to see Auror Keller – including the wizard’s son. The Head Auror solved the problem for him by appearing from the area where the interrogation rooms were, pausing at the sight of his son.

“Kevin…?”

“Auror Keller, we need to talk to you about FP Jones,” blurted out Archie, taking the lead.

Auror Keller frowned. “What about him?”

“He’s innocent!” declared Betty, hotly.

“He’s being framed,” finished Veronica, adding her two knuts.

Auror Keller looked at them all, one at a time, including his own son. He then asked, voice filled with confusion, “Then why did he just confess?”

Betty felt Jughead sway next to her, and she turned, reaching out and grabbing his arm to hold him upright. His eyes weren’t on her, though – at that moment, another Auror strode down the hallway with FP Jones in front of him, his hands bound in front of him with a set of magical inhibitors.

He glanced their way and froze – momentarily – and then his face drained of colour. “Jug?” he seemed to whisper, eyes on his son.

“Dad…” whispered Jughead back, taking a small step forward towards him.

But then, FP hardened his face and looked deliberately forward, ignoring him.

Betty felt, more than saw, Jughead crumble.

“Sorry, kids,” said Auror Keller, looking back to FP and then them, apologetically. “But this case is closed, now.”

Without realizing, they slowly began to trudge back down to the front.

“I’m going to stay and see what I can find out,” whispered Kevin to Betty, who nodded, and gently took Jughead’s hand, leading him to meet up with Veronica and Archie.

The four went, by unconscious decision, to the Three Broomsticks, sitting in a booth and picking at their food as a grumpy man stood behind the counter, cleaning a glass and staring at them.

A few hours later, bleary-eyed, Kevin returned. He slid into the booth beside Betty, and Jughead looked at him.

Kevin shook his head. “The auror report said FP worked alone. No mention of your dad, Ronnie. That’s good news, right?”

Veronica sighed and shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking that – maybe my dad hired another Serpent to plant that wand.”

Archie groaned and put his head in his hands. “It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

Jughead snorted. “Hardly – this is something my dad excels at – fucking things up.”

He pushed gently at Betty, who then nudged Kevin, until they were all standing and Jughead was out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” asked Archie, panicked. He too rose, and Veronica followed suit. The man behind the counter stopped cleaning his glass.

“Back to Hogwarts,” replied Jughead frostily. “What else is there for me to do? I’m going to go to bed and hopefully when I wake up, some of this nightmare will be over.”

“Juggie…” breathed Betty, reaching for him. She laced their fingers together, and then, without Jughead saying goodbye, waved to her friends and joined him in the walk back to school.

It was silent, and oppressive, and Betty was sure that _this_ was the beginning of the end.

*

Lunchtime at Hogwarts was now fraught with drama and whispers. As Jughead’s closest friends (and his girlfriend), Betty, Archie, Veronica, and Kevin were often the source of gossip and curious eyes. In the Great Hall at meal time, they couldn’t hide in their classrooms under watchful eyes of their professors, or hide in the Black and Gold offices, or even take to the skies on Archie’s broomstick.

Today, they sat at the Gryffindor table, as far away from Slytherin as possible. Reggie, Val, and Moose sat with them; Moose’s large frame keeping most curious gossipmongers away from them.

“How’s Jughead doing?” asked Reggie, the first to break the silence of the four friends.

Archie, startled, looked up from shredding his toast. “Not good. He’s not coming in today.”

“He’s at Auror Headquarters,” added Kevin quietly.

Betty frowned, the corners of her lips turning down deeply. “Being grilled by your dad.”

“Who’s just doing his job,” argued back Kevin, and the two friends – usually so close – stared at each other.

“Well, of course he’s gonna ask Jughead questions,” said Valerie, eyes darting between Betty and Kevin nervously, who decided to ignore one another for the moment.

“Okay, well, he’s wasting his time, Val,” said Betty, her tone hot. “Because FP didn’t kill Jason.”

Reggie stared at her. “Yo, Agatha Christie, Daddy Donnie Darko confessed.”

“Or he was coerced!” replied Betty.

“Or he’s protecting someone, maybe a Serpent,” added Veronica, thoughtfully. She took a sip of her tea, eyes on the dark liquid as she began to think.

Betty _hmm_ ed. “My mom saw him and Joaquin together—”

“Don’t!” snapped Kevin, looking at her. “Do not drag my boyfriend into this.”

“Oh, but it’s okay to bring my boyfriend and his family into it?” snarked Betty.

Archie threw an arm between the two. “Hey, guys – stop it! This isn’t the time to be fighting between us. We should be supporting Jug.” He glanced at Kevin. “I know it’s hard because it’s your dad and it’s your friend – but we all know that the evidence is suggesting that FP didn’t kill Jason.” He then turned to Betty. “And we all know you love and care about Jug, Betty… but tone down the bark, okay?”

Betty huffed, crossing her arms, looking down at the table.

“Betty?”

“Fine,” she groused, and then looked up. They stopped on a small, hunched form walking in through the Great Hall’s doors.

“What’re you…?” Reggie turned around to see what Betty was looking at, and everyone else at the table followed suit. “Oh, no.”

“What?” asked Moose, turning in his seat.

Veronica’s face soured in worry. “What happened to him not coming in today?”

They watched worriedly as Jughead moved right past the Gryffindor table, and then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw, to stop before Slytherin. His housemates looked back at him, some unsure of what to say and others, like Chuck, in glee.

The redhead before him slowly rose from her place and Jughead drew himself up to his full height, looking her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl,” he sniffled, rubbing a fist across his eyes.

She stared at him, just for a moment, as if wondering whether he was sincere or not. And then –

Cheryl exploded into a fury, slapping him across the face. Betty winced, knowing how that felt, and saw Archie and Reggie leap to their feet and move towards the drama unfolding at the Slytherin table. She and Veronica, as well as Kevin and Val, followed at a slower face.

The hall went silent and then erupted into whispers and shouts, as other students got to their feet to watch the drama unfold.

Cheryl began shrieking something at Jughead, hitting him forcefully in the chest with her fists. He stood there and let her beat him, until Archie and Reggie appeared. It seemed that backup flipped a switch in Cheryl’s mind, and she whipped her wand out.

Both Archie and Reggie did so as well, warily watching the Slytherin while Jughead refused.

Just as she was about the cast, a loud echoing _boom_ shook the Great Hall. Everyone stopped, turned, and watched in horror as Headmistress McGonagall, flanked by Professors Slughorn, Longbottom, and Vector, angrily strode towards them.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Professor McGonagall, her Scottish burr exceptionally thick. She turned to look at Jughead, Cheryl, and then Archie and Reggie.

“Miss Blossom,” murmured Slughorn, “Perhaps you’ll join Professor Vector in the Infirmary momentarily?”

Cheryl quietly went with the Arithmancy professor, leaving Jughead to face the other three.

“Mr. Jones,” seethed McGonagall. “To my office. _Now_.”

“But he didn’t do anything!” protested Archie loudly, drawing Professor Longbottom’s eye. “It wasn’t his fault!”

“Cheryl attacked _him_ ,” added Veronica, leaping forward to face off against the Headmistress and the other two professors.

Reggie crossed his arms. “He _was_ trying to apologize. Not like he has to – it wasn’t like _he_ did anything wrong.”

Professor Longbottom sighed. “As it is, you know we don’t condone fighting in the halls.” He glanced back and forth at his two Gryffindors, and Veronica. He then looked at Slughorn, who looked torn, and McGonagall, who was frowning.

“Jones – this way,” she said, and Jughead followed mutely, with Professor Slughorn bringing the rear. The rest were left in the Great Hall, where the murmurs had reached a peak.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’,” rumbled Hagrid, his voice loud and silencing the hall. “Back ta yer lunches.”

Betty worried her hands, staring off after Jughead and the two professors. Archie, Veronica and Reggie were still defending Jughead to Professor Longbottom.

“Look!” he finally said, louder, enough to silence them and she turned back to the conversation. “I understand, okay? It’s a tough situation and I went through my fair share during my time at Hogwarts.” He looked at Archie and Reggie. “I can’t condone fighting of any kind, but… five points to Gryffindor each, for supporting your friend in a time of need.”

At their pleased looks, he quickly added, “Just… keep an eye on him and make sure he’s left alone until the Aurors figure things out.”

Archie and Reggie nodded their heads, and Veronica grabbed their arms, pulling them towards Betty, Kevin, and Val.

“Let’s get out of here,” mumbled Betty, and they left the hall together.

“Should we wait for Jug?” asked Archie quietly.

Betty nodded. “Let’s go to the Headmistress’s office. We’ll see him when he leaves.”

They caught up with Jughead just outside the Headmistress’s office, with their friends – the ones who sat with them at the Gryffindor table that morning – loitering just further down. They had unanimously voted Betty the least likely to get snapped at.

She was pacing nervously in front of the gargoyle when it finally leapt to the side, revealing Jughead.

He glanced at her, and then hunched his shoulders, shoved his hands in his pockets, and did an abrupt heel turn away from her and the others.

Betty jogged to keep up with his fast steps, yanking on his sleeve to stop him. “What happened in there?”

Jughead snorted. “McGonagall telling me to keep my head down – with of course ol’ Sluggie blubbering on about reputation and expectations and ‘house matters,’ whatever that means. Don’t know who’s more of a dick, Keller or Slughorn, actually...”

Betty frowned. “Hey. Don’t listen to them. Everyone else is wrong. Your dad’s innocent, and we just need to prove it, Jug.”

Jughead turned to face her. “Who killed him, then, Betty? Tell me. If it wasn’t my dad, who killed Jason Blossom? He said he did it, and you know what? I’ve been waiting my whole life for that man to do the right thing, and I’m done.”

He tore himself from her grip on the sleeve, and continued walking down the hallway of the castle, aimless. He called over his shoulder, “And you should be, too.”

“Jug!” she called, glancing helplessly behind at Archie, Veronica, Kevin, Reggie, and Val, all with various different expressions on their faces. Archie made a motion with his hands, and she sighed, turning to catching up with her boyfriend. She heard the slap of shoes behind her and realized that they were going to follow at a distance.

She caught up and reached out, lacing her fingers with his. He stumbled in his steps, and then finally slowed, ambling with her down the hall, their friends closely following behind.

He sighed.

“Now what?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing,” he muttered, “Just as we thought – my dad’s a murderer.”

“You said he wasn’t,” spoke up Reggie from behind, clearly eavesdropping. Jughead stopped, stiffened his shoulders, and turned to face the group. He paused – stunned that so many had come to check on him – and then swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “I’ve been known to be wrong.”

Reggie shook his head. “Nah, bro – you’re not, usually.”

Jughead looked as surprised as Betty felt by the admission of the Gryffindor Quidhead. It was no secret they didn’t get on, but Reggie had been surprisingly kind and helpful to Jughead recently.

Jughead shook his head. “No, this time I am. There’s nothing to be done.”

“That’s not true!” argued Archie. “My mom is still here – she hasn’t gone back to Paris yet. She’s a lawyer – you can ask her for help.”

Reggie nodded. “And if you can’t get Andrews’ mom to help, my family lawyer will. No problem there.”

“I have some loose Galleons around,” added Veronica, “I can donate them to a good cause – like proving your father’s innocence.”

“I don’t have access to money,” said Val, contritely, “But the Pussycats have a large fanbase. I can reach out for some help that way. Mel would too, I’m sure.” She winced. “Josie, not so much…”

Kevin sighed. “And you know I’ll help where I can, even if my dad is the one leading the charge against your father, Jughead.” He shrugged. “After all, I _do_ have access to his files at home.”

Betty squeezed his hand, and Jughead turned his dumbfounded face towards her. “See? You’ve got friends. We’re here to help you, if you let us.”

The noise Jughead made was somewhere between a sob and sigh, his eyes bright and shiny. “I… uh…”

Archie stepped forward and clapped Jughead on the shoulder. “Well, you’re not staying in the castle tonight, buddy. Grab your stuff, we’re going to mine tonight. My mom’s over, and she’ll go through your dad’s file.”

“You’ll be at Andrews’?” asked Reggie. “Good. I’ll go home and Floo our lawyers in London and see what they can dish up.”

“You’re not alone, Jughead,” whispered Betty against his side, and he shuddered, his eyes warm as they looked at her.

*

Everyone had gone their separate ways once the large group had descended upon a confused Fred and Mary Andrews; however, once Archie had explained what happened at the castle, Mary quickly began packing her lawyer’s briefcase and Apparated out to the Auror Headquarters in Hogsmeade, while Fred transfigured a spare sleeping spot in Archie’s bedroom for Jughead.

Betty went home, while Veronica and Reggie went towards the nicer area, and Kevin went to the station with Mary; Val had remained at Hogwarts, listening to gossip and feeling out what people were thinking.

However, Betty was far too tense to sleep, her mind whirling as she went over all the bits and pieces of Jason’s murder, again and again.

 _There is something I am missing,_ she thought, smoothing her hands down her pajama shorts absently. _What is it? What am I missing?_

A thump and then a bang had her sitting upright.

There was another muffled noise, and she grabbed her wand from the bedside table, creeping to her bedroom door. She opened it, peering into the darkness downstairs.

There was another bang.

Her mother’s bedroom door opened and Alice stared out in to the darkness.

Another noise.

Both witches gasped.

“Did you hear that?” asked Betty.

Alice immediately shushed her, creeping past and pushing her daughter behind as they descended the steps, slowly, into the living room. Alice held her wand aloft, the tip already glowing a low, dark red.

Betty eyed it warily. “Mom, what are you doing with that?”

Alice didn’t reply, eyes focused on a dark shape moving around the living room. Instead, she whispered, “Get behind me, Betty. Be ready to cast your Patronus to the Aurors.”

Betty swallowed, nodding, even if her mother didn’t see.

Then, Alice shouted, “Don’t move!” and cast at the same time a non-verbal _lumos maxima_ , lighting everything in the room up the same way a flash grenade would work. “Hands where I can see them!”

Betty squinted against the light and the figure crouched.

“Jesus! Don’t shoot, Alice!”

Alice dropped her wand, and so did Betty. With a wave of her hand, the torches and lamps around the living room burst into light, and the room was illuminated in a soft glow in the early hours of the morning.

“Dad!”

“Hal – what the hell?” Alice strode forward, looking at what her estranged husband was doing, Betty following on her heels.

There, in front of the fireplace, was Hal Cooper, sorting through the stolen files from Auror Keller’s house. Betty’s mouth dropped open.

“Hal! These are Auror Keller’s files about the Blossom murder investigation,” accused Alice, a shrewd look in her eyes.

“How did you get these, Dad?” asked Betty quietly, completely flabbergasted at the turn her evening took.

Hal rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I broke into his house the last night the Twilight was open, and I took them.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s impossible. FP Jones already confessed to that.”

Hal shrugged. “Well, I have no idea why he would do that, because it was me. That’s why I’m here. To destroy any evidence that could lead back to me.”

Betty shook her head. “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Mr. Jones fess up to something he didn’t even do?”

“Yeah, I’m not thinking about FP right now,” snorted Alice, crossing her arms, just as Betty lowered herself on the couch. “I’d like to know why your father is stealing and destroying evidence in a murder investigation.”

Hal sighed loudly, standing from his crouch in front of the fireplace. Nothing had yet been burned. “Look, I was worried that the investigation would get back to Polly, somehow; to us. And somehow Auror Keller would figure out the connection between our family and the Blossoms.”

Alice sighed, sitting on the couch as well. “And he would think that there was some kind of motive.”

Betty’s head swivelled back and forth between her parents. “Wait, you mean about Great-Grandpappy Cooper being murdered by a Blossom?”

Hal looked pained for a moment, looking between his irate wife and his confused daughter. He began to pace in front of the fireplace, running his hands through his already unruly blond hair. Finally, he stopped and looked at Betty directly, a hard look in his eyes. “Betty, your great-grandfather wasn’t just murdered by a Blossom.”

He paused.

“He _was_ a Blossom.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open and she glanced at her mother, who looked like someone had come along and cast _Confundus_ on her. Alice would never allow anyone to see her with her mouth hanging open like that.

“I think we need to discuss this further,” she finally said, standing and leading the family into the kitchen. With a flick of her wrist and her wand, the kettle on the stove began to heat up and their favourite mugs flew from the cupboard to land in front of them at the dining room table.

Minutes later, they were all sipping tea.

“After the murder, our family severed ties with the Blossoms and their name, and we took a new one,” began Hal quietly. “We used ‘Cooper.’”

Betty felt her stomach drop from underneath her. Disgust welled, and everything she knew about Cheryl and Jason, their parents, and their attitudes, made her want to vomit. “I’m a _Blossom_?”

Hal, however, was more direct. “Polly is a Blossom, which makes her and Jason relatives by blood. I'm a Muggleborn, yes, but my Grandpappy was a Squib, cast from the family and killed for it.”

Alice’s eyes were wide. “Which is why you wanted to—”

Hal nodded. “Yeah. Alice, that’s why.”

Alice suddenly reached forward, and Betty wondered what was going through her mind. The Selwyns weren’t as inbred as the Blacks, but there were a few too close connections in their family tree (as in all Pureblood circles); the last war had shown that new blood was needed and desired, and the thought of family connections in the manner of Jason and Polly was still too close for comfort.

“Oh, my God, Hal,” breathed Alice, “If you’re willing to send our daughter away to keep her away from Jason…”

“How far would the Blossoms go to keep them apart?” finished Betty, on the same train of thought as her mother. She turned to her father, looking back at her with wide eyes. “We need to get Polly out of that house.”

They all immediately scrambled to their feet and towards their jackets in the front hall. Once their jackets were on – on top of pajamas for Betty and Alice – Hal reached for his daughter and together, the three of them Apparated directly to the front stoop of Thornhill.

 _We did this before_ , thought Betty in surprise, as she stared around the looming mansion. _When I freaked out over Nana Blossom, with Jughead. Dad Apparated me out of Thornhill from here –_ through _the wards. Blossom wards that recognized the blood connection_.

She shivered, watching with wide eyes as Hal burst through the front doors, his wand and her mother’s both tightly gripped in their hands.

Clifford and Penelope Apparated from their bedroom immediately down to the front hall, along with several House Elves. Cheryl and a very pregnant Polly followed slower, forced to walk.

“Don’t bother calling the Aurors, Clifford,” announced Hal darkly. “We’re not staying.”

Alice shouted, “Polly! Polly, come _here_!”

Clifford, annoyed, snapped, “What the hell is going on here, Alice? It’s the middle of the night.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Oh, sorry to disrupt your Dark Arts practices at Thornhill.” She turned to her eldest daughter, a hand held out. “Polly, honey, are you okay?”

Standing next to Cheryl, in her bathrobe, Polly tightened the knot and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Betty, what’s going on?”

Betty swallowed and said, “We’re here to bring you home, Pol.”

Cheryl immediately stepped next to Polly, threatened by the words. “She’s not leaving us. She chose to live here, remember? With a mentally stable family.” Her eyes flashed angrily. “Go back to your loser boyfriend, Cooper.”

Alice blonde hair crackled as magic gathered. “Oh, I know _all_ about your family, Penelope.”

“And the incest,” added Hal, his voice dangerously low as he kept his eyes on Clifford, wand ready to use if needed.

Polly gasped. “What? What incest?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Alice, quit being so dramatic.” She turned to Polly, and her voice softened. “Hal’s grandfather wasn’t just your grandpappy’s murder victim. They were brothers, which made him a Blossom.”

“Just like Hal,” added Clifford mulishly under his breath.

“Yeah, so what?” asked Polly, still confused.

“‘So what?’ So, everything, starting with FP’s confession, has a few gaping holes in it,” began Alice, facing her daughter, but now being allowed to speak, roamed the entrance hall for her audience. “He’s being used by someone with a crazy motive, for example, hiding incest.”

Penelope tossed her hair back, pointing her chin proudly. “You were disgusted that Jason and Polly were dating because they were related. Nothing could be more purely Blossom than those babies.”

Polly’s face morphed into disgust and she cradled her stomach. Cheryl looked thunderstruck beside her, but Hal just shook his head, his face one of deep disgust. “Okay, what is wrong with you people?”

“Will you just spare us the middle-class, _Muggle_ morality, Hal?” sneered Clifford. “It’s not like they were brother and sister. They were, what, third cousins?”

Polly cried in shock, and Betty raced up the stairs to hold her. Cheryl let her, eyes wide and mouth gaping at the confessions occurring below.

Clifford continued, his voice cool. “You think that I killed my son? My heir to the Blossom winery?”

Alice stared hard at Clifford for a moment, then turned to her daughters. “That’s it. Polly, we are out of here. I am done with this icky  _Toujours Pur_  experimentation in breeding and eugenics. It’s over!”

Polly and Betty eagerly began walking down the steps, as quickly as Polly’s extended belly would allow them.

As they passed the stoic Penelope and Clifford, Clifford reached out and grabbed Betty’s arm tightly. She gasped.

“You’ve made a grave error, little girl,” he said quietly.

“Betty,” said Hal, his voice quiet but his eyes were on Clifford. The other wizard released Betty’s arm and she stared hard at him.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, steel in her voice. “And I’m not going to stop until I prove it.”

Alice, with Polly in her arms, Apparated out quickly, and then Hal took Betty, directly from the front stoop of the mansion, with the doors wide open to show Clifford and Penelope that he could.

When they arrived back at the Cooper house, Polly was already on the couch, sobbing with Alice’s arms around her, trying to shush her.

Betty, however, was pent up from her confrontation with Clifford. “God!” She cried, earning a dark look from her mother. “I’m sick of all the secrets and the lies in this town and in this family.” She turned to her father. “Dad, if you had just _told us_ the big family secret years ago, Jason would probably still be alive and Polly wouldn’t be pregnant.”

“There’s no point playing ‘what ifs,’ Betty,” replied Hal, a deep frown on his face. “I kept my family history a secret because the truth would’ve been too much. Honesty has its price, as we see now.”

Betty shook her head. “I would much rather take some heat for being honest than do what you’re doing: living in fear of the truth.”

Alice glared at her daughter. “Really! You’re playing with Fiendfyre, poking at Clifford and Penelope, and all this digging you’ve done in Jason’s death. I am scared for you, Elizabeth, not of the truth.”

Betty narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? Let’s go then.”

“Betty,” warned Hal, his voice low.

Polly hiccupped, her tears done as she watched everything unfold in front of her, in the living room.

“You talk a big game about liking Jughead, but wouldn’t you be much happier if we weren’t together?” asked Betty, eyes on her parents.

Her mother’s face was stony, although her father was a bit conflicted. Betty took that as admission of truth, and scoffed. “I thought so. Question number two, when you invited Mr. Jones over for dinner, he said that you and Dad got in a huge fight when you were at Hogwarts, at the Graduation Ball.”

“What? When did this happen?” gasped Polly, looking at her parents.

“Betty, drop it,” demanded Hal, glancing at his wife.

Betty ignored her father. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Alice, her mouth in a firm line, although her lips trembled.

“Oh, come on, Mom. I saw the look on your face,” goaded Betty, leaning forward, her hands on her hips. “You were terrified.”

“Betty!” snapped Hal.

“What were you so scared he was going to say?” continued Betty.

Alice stood from Polly’s side and snapped, “That is none of your damn business!”

Betty flung her hand out and pointed a finger at her father, who froze. “Dad was keeping a secret that almost destroyed us. How many are you keeping?”

Alice’s face crumpled, and Hal strode forward, enfolding her in his arms. Betty blinked in shock as he mother’s shoulders began to shake.

She glanced at Polly, who shrugged back.

Alice sighed, withdrawing from Hal’s chest but not his arms. The two looked at each other, having a conversation in a way that only couples for a long time could manage, and then Hal led Alice back to the couch, next to Polly, who took her mother’s hand in hers.

“There are some secrets that are so painful, you not only hide them from the world, but you hide them from yourself,” began Alice quietly.

Betty slowly moved to her mother, sitting on Polly’s other side. Hal moved to the fireplace, beginning to clean up the stolen files they had left strewn in front of it.

“What do you mean?” asked Betty quietly.

Alice mumbled, “The night of the Graduation Ball, when your father and I were crowned King and Queen, the fight that FP saw, I had just told your father that I was pregnant.”

Polly gasped loudly and Betty stilled.

Alice kept her eyes on her hands with Polly’s as she spoke. “And we disagreed on how best to handle – Things. And we had a big fight. And the next day, I went away.”

“To the Lud Ward at St. Mungo’s,” said Polly, connecting the pieces.

Alice nodded. She looked at her two daughters. “And five months later, your brother was born. The Healers at the ward arranged for a quiet adoption.”

“Sweet Merlin,” breathed Polly, and Betty, stricken, reached forward to touch her mother too.

“Merlin, Mom. I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, eyes welling with tears.

 _What have I done, pushing her to telling us this?_ She thought, glancing at her father and his tight shoulders as he presented his back to them.

“It’s the biggest regret of my life,” continued Alice, eyes downcast. Her chest heaved, and then she was sobbing, deep, great, entire-body shudders. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, honey.”

Polly and Betty reached for their mother, enfolding her as much as they could in a tight, Cooper huddle. Betty met her father’s haunted eyes, as he watched his witches.

There was conflict in them – and Betty understood. They were young, not ready to be parents, and they did what they thought best. But her father too, was missing a son.

“It’s okay, Mom,” murmured Polly from Betty’s side.

 _It will be_ , thought Betty fiercely. The Coopers were together again – and if there was one thing that Coopers did well, it was dig up nasty little secrets.

*


	23. Carpe Noctem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI. Some graphic depictions of torture in this chapter. You'll want to skip the flashback/memory if that's not your thing. Trigger warning.

*

XXIII: Carpe Noctem

*

_I am an astronaut, a renegade_

_Tearing through the dark on a new wave_

_It's ride or die, seize the night..._

– “Astronaut,” Josie and the Pussycats (Riverdale Cast), 2017

*

Tensions were running high in Hogsmeade following FP’s arrest. Fred Andrews’ construction site halted completed, subject to an Auror investigation: one of his crewmen was being charged with murder, and it was the location of an Unforgivable. In addition to that, everyone knew Archie was Jughead’s best friend, so there was no escaping the gossip and whispers.

For Betty, as the other friend, as well as girlfriend of Jughead Jones, she was subjected to gossip and idle chatter as well – especially with her parents (her mother now allowed back on the _Prophet_ , given that she and Hal had made up after learning about the Cooper/Blossom relationship) were spearheading a fact-finding mission and that they were calling doubt upon the Hogsmeade Auror force for inconsistent evidence.

Kevin was caught between his friends and loyalty to his father, while Veronica continued to worry about her father’s impending release from Nuremgard prison and his return to English soil.

And on top of all that, was Betty’s reveal about her older brother.

“It’s positively Dickensian,” was the first thing out of Veronica’s mouth, as Betty’s friends sat with her in front of the fireplace in the Upper Common Lounge, enraptured.

“I love a long-lost brother,” repeated Betty, tasting the words on her tongue. They felt heavy and odd, like a strange texture of a new food she was trying and wasn’t sure what to make of it just yet. Jughead reached forward and wrapped an arm around her.

“How old would he be?” asked Kevin, leaning forward over the coffee table from next to Veronica.

Betty looked up and began counting in her head, calculating her parents’ age and adding nine months. “Umm... about his mid-twenties, I think.”

Veronica’s face changed to something rapturous, her eyes taking on a sheen of excitement as she gazed outward. “Oh, Merlin. A blond Adonis, no doubt.”

Betty chewed on her lip, glancing at her friends as Veronica and Kevin then began debating what her older brother would look like, while Archie’s head swivelled back and forth, watching them.

 _The truth is, I think I already saw him_ , thought Betty, glancing at Jughead. _And so has Jug and Kev._

However, she did not want to bring it up – not right then and there, especially not if she was correct and he was who she thought he was. Instead, she curled her hand – the one furthest away from Jughead, into a fist and slipped it under her robes. There, inside a pocket, she felt the embroidered stitching of the handkerchief the blond ICW wizard from the Three Broomsticks handed off to her.

*

Betty rolled on her stomach, peering down into her compact as her sister mimicked her in the reflective surface, except she propped herself up with several pillows and shoved one between her legs to keep her knees and spine aligned.

“I’m so glad that you’re home, Pol,” sighed Betty. Veronica was out of the dorm room, working with the Pussycats for the Yule Ball – the next dance and concert that Hogwarts would be throwing the night before the Hogwarts Express left for London – or so she said, and she had not heard from Archie, Kevin, or Jughead since her return to Hogwarts that Sunday evening, when she cornered them all in the Black and Gold office, along with Reggie, to explain what happened that Saturday night when she and her parents stormed Thornhill. “That you’re safe, and that the babies are okay and healthy. But _Merlin_ , everything else…”

“Is the worst?” suggested Polly, a wry grin on her face. “Hey, at least you’re at Hogwarts and not stuck at home with mom and dad.”

“How’s that going?” asked Betty.

Polly rolled her eyes. “As well as you can imagine. They’re being all lovey-dovey now that they know there is something shady going on at Thornhill – plus what I’ve learned about Penelope having the ring until Cheryl lost it, and Clifford’s hair – is enough to point them in that direction.”

“If only everyone else saw that,” said Betty, rolling onto her back. “FP is innocent, Pol. I _know_ it.”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you are dating the man’s son?” asked Polly, her voice reasonable. “I mean, it’s one thing to be known as the girlfriend of a dead wizard, but it’s another to be the girlfriend of a wizard whose father is in Azkaban.”

Betty snorted. “Well, that discounts much of our mother’s side of the family, doesn’t it? We had a great-uncle and uncle who were both supporters of Voldemort, and one is still alive in Azkaban – if you can call that being alive.”

The mirror vibrated and shook on the bed, and Betty rolled again, glancing at it. “Pol, someone else is calling me. I’ll talk to you later.”

She tapped the reflective surface and then her boyfriend’s pale face appeared.

“Betts.”

“Juggie!” exclaimed Betty, sitting up and scooping the compact in the same motion.

“Betty, I saw my dad,” continued Jughead, glancing behind him. He looked like he was walking somewhere. “You were right. He’s hiding something.”

Betty blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know you had gone to see him today, Jug.”

He nodded in response. “Something was bugging me. I dunno – I guess hearing you defend him so much made me think that I should be… _sure_ before I write him off completely. And you were right. The way he was acting? My dad is a liar, and a scoundrel, and a cheat – but there’s one thing he’s not good at, and that’s lying _to me_. I know his tells. And I saw it. I saw it today.”

“Jug,” breathed Betty, “That’s great news.”

“Well, he’s still guilty of something, so maybe not,” huffed Jughead, his eyes constantly moving as he walked somewhere. “Anyway – I’m on my way back to Hogwarts. Can I meet you in the Black and Gold?”

“I’ll be waiting,” confirmed Betty, and as soon as the mirror went dark and she only saw her reflection, she sat up and slipped her feet into her shoes, at the side of her bed.

Hufflepuff was busy with several students congregating around couches or the fireplace, including Trev, who was leading a Prefects meeting for the fifth years; Betty would be leading the next, for December, before school let out.

She waved and he nodded back, never breaking from his conversation. Her walk to the Black and Gold office was quiet; most students were either in their dorm rooms, or their common rooms – or, if they were an upper year, in the shared common area – leaving the hallways fairly empty of students.

So Betty was surprised to find one lone Gryffindor loitering on the third floor, near her Literature classroom and the Black and Gold office.

The tall lanky form was pacing up and down the hall, their hands folded behind their back. Betty squinted in the dark, flickering torchlight. Her eyes then widened.

“ _Reggie_?”

The figure turned and the tall Asian Quidditch player’s eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Betty. Ugh,” he stuttered uncharacteristically. “Do you have a mo’?”

Betty paused in her steps and folded her arms. Her speaking to Reggie wasn’t an unusual occurrence, especially not since the Chuck Clayton and the Oath; however, he rarely sought her out to speak specifically with her.

“Sure,” hedged Betty, motioning to the nearby Black and Gold office. “I’ve some time before I see Jug.”

Reggie nodded and followed her inside the offices, selecting the same chair he used most times he entered – one of the swivels by the large conference table.

Betty stood opposite, waiting for Reggie to speak.

“How’s he holding up?” Reggie finally asked.

“Jughead?” Betty stared incredulously at the Gryffindor student. “He’s... okay. How would you feel if your father was being threatened with Azkaban?”

Reggie grimaced. “Fair point. Listen – I wanted to offer the Mantle lawyers. I know Jughead won’t say ‘yes’ to me, but maybe you could convince him?”

“Jughead’s pretty stubborn,” admitted Betty, with her arms crossed. “If he doesn’t want a lawyer for his father, beyond Mrs. Andrews, then he won’t ask for one.”

Reggie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well – they’re on retainer. And just a Floo or Owl away if he changes his mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, and make sure he does, too,” replied Betty, quietly. She was touched that Reggie would offer his family’s lawyers, given that they had never really gotten long since they had first met at Mrs. Weasley’s nursery. “I’m sure he appreciates the offer, Reggie.”

“Who appreciates what?” asked Jughead as he entered the room, glancing suspiciously between Betty and Reggie for a moment, the suspicion stronger on the Gryffindor than his girlfriend.

“Reggie was telling me that he suggested the Gryffindor Quidditch team take up extra drills, and he would lead the Chasers so that they were ready for their next match in January,” explained Betty quickly, thinking of one of the things Jughead had little interest in: Quidditch.

“Oh,” he said, sliding into the seat next to where Betty stood. He glanced at the taller sixth year and spoke to him shortly. “Anyway – we’ve got some work we need to discuss, Reggie. D’you mind?”

The words and tone were rude, and Reggie clearly felt slightly, as he reared back in surprise and his eyes narrowed. “Jeez, what’s got your knob in a twist, Jones? You’re such a little goblin.”

Jughead narrowed his own eyes in response, and Betty quickly put a stop to their posturing.

“All right, boys, steady on,” she said, glancing at them both. She put her hands on her hips to demonstrate her unhappiness. “Jug – Reggie was being nice, stopping by for a chat and wondering how you were. There was no need to snap. And Reggie – you know that things are tough for Jug right now; be a bit more understanding.”

Both teens were properly abashed, and looked down at Betty’s words. She turned to Jughead. “Now – who can we rule out?”

Jughead sighed, and tipped back on the chair. “My dad. We know why he was acting so shady.”

“Why?” asked Reggie, curiously.

Jughead sighed. “He’s a Serpent, and he’s guilty of a lot of things, like illegal potion selling and black market deals, but he didn’t kill Jason.”

Reggie sat back and contemplated that knowledge, a pensive look on his face.

Jughead turned back to Betty, who said, “Hermione Lodge.”

Jughead nodded. “Yeah. We can remove her, too.”

At Reggie’s look, Betty elaborated, “Veronica says she’s guilty of plenty, but not murder. Plus, she has an alibi. She was in Paris.”

Reggie frowned, and twisted in the chair to turn it to face their murder wall. Betty and Jughead followed suit, with Betty walking forward and removing both Hermione’s and FP’s names from the board. She then removed her father and mother’s names, as well.

“So, that just leaves...” Reggie trailed off, his eyes moving from the last set of names of the adults on the board.

“Hiram Lodge,” said Jughead.

“And Clifford and Penelope Blossom,” added Betty, thinking back to Clifford’s threat the other night when she and her parents retrieved Polly. “Who are looking more likely.”

“How so?” asked Jughead, turning to face her.

“The whole thing with Polly and...” Betty squirmed. “The Cooper-Blossom relationship. They were really blasé about it.”

“Purebloods generally are,” answered Reggie, cupping the back of his head and sprawling in the chair.

“It’s still gross,” replied Betty, making a face.

Reggie shrugged.

“But is incest a motive for murder?” asked Jughead, bringing the conversation back to topic.

Betty shrugged. “Not by the way they were talking; they were positively delighted that the baby was going to be ‘pure’ Blossom.”

This time, both Jughead and Reggie made a face.

“Well, what motive does Hiram Lodge have for killing Jason?” asked Reggie. “And would Lady Marmalade’s Dark Daddy really kill someone?”

“Veronica’s pretty set on her father pointing the wand at Jason,” admitted Betty, frowning. “She mentioned he threatened her mother in a letter he sent from Nuremgard, warning her that _not_ testifying on his behalf could have dire consequences.”

“At best, he’s manipulative and abusive,” sighed Jughead, “At worst, a murderer.”

“Funny, I think he was in jail for embezzlement,” groaned Reggie, tilting his head back and dropping his arms. “That’s a big leap.”

“Depends how deep he was,” answered Jughead, just as the door opened and Alice Cooper strode into the Black and Gold like she owned it. “Well, what do we have here?”

“Mom?”

Alice ignored the incredulous greeting that burst from Betty’s lips to look around the room at the three either standing (Jughead and Betty) or sitting (Reggie) in front of their murder board. She seemed surprised at Reggie’s inclusion, but otherwise did not break her stride.

“You two just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” she asked, instead, facing her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend.

“Mom, we know what you’re going to say—”

Alice grinned. “The Aurors found another dead body.”

Silence descended and everyone stared at her. Eventually, Jughead muttered, “Okay, maybe not that...”

Alice perched herself on the edge of the conference table, completely happy in having their undivided attention. “The body belongs to a Southside Serpent and Auror Clueless is convinced that he was working with Veronica’s father. He _allegedly_ committed suicide by potion overdose, and there was a bag of galleons and Gringotts drafts on-site that links him to Hiram Lodge. Everything is tied up into a nice little bow.” She paused and looked around, rolling her shoulders back. “Too tidy, if you ask me.”

“Is everyone all right?” asked Betty, her voice rising as she spoke. “Who found the body?”

Alice stared at her daughter for a moment and then answered, “Archie, Veronica, and Kevin found the body. In Greendale.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. _Greendale? What were they doing_ there _?_

Reggie asked Betty unspoken question, and Alice shrugged. “How would I know? They were probably following some strange lead, since all of you kids seem to be playing amateur Scooby-Doos.”

She pushed herself off the table. “Anyway – thought I’d give you all the head’s up before I go to print in the evening edition of the _Prophet_. And because I wanted new scoops.”

Jughead crossed his arms. “We have nothing else, other than taking names off.”

“Good enough for me,” said Alice, roving her eyes over their murder board and making noises when she thought of something interesting. Eventually, she stopped, stepping back and turned to leave. As she walked out, she tossed over her shoulder, “Remember, Betty dear, dinner tomorrow night at seven. Polly’s back with us, so our Saturday dinners are back on. Dress robes are required.”

Betty sighed, “Yes, mom,” as Alice Cooper shut the door behind her. The three were left in silence for a few moments, then –

“I’m going to try to find Archie,” said Jughead, making Betty and Reggie turn to him. “I want to find out what happened and why they were in Greendale of all places.”

“Good idea,” agreed Betty, stepping close and kissing him lightly on the lips. She felt his mouth turn up in a smile in response, his hand a weight on her hip. He squeezed and then was gone from the room too, leaving her and Reggie behind.

“Something isn’t adding up,” the Gryffindor said, causing her to nod slowly. He was frowning at looking at the murder board. “I mean, I’m not arguing who you have left as potential murderers, here, Agatha Cooper, but there seems to be something missing.”

“Like motive?” she sighed.

Reggie nodded. “That’s one thing – but... something’s not adding up. Why Greendale?”

“You mean for tonight?” asked Betty, taking her mother’s vacant spot on the conference table to look at the wizard, who stood from his chair and began pacing in front of their board.

“No – I mean, why Greendale? It was along the route where Jason’s Quidditch jersey was found right? And the illegal potions – the Serpents deal in some, no doubt, but they wouldn’t murder a kid because of a failed delivery; not for things like alcohol and Polyjuice and cheap Calming draughts.”

Betty watched as Reggie began to work things out in his head, mumbling out loud and her following along.

“You said that Mayor McCoy and Clifford Blossom have monthly meetings?” he asked, pointing to one of their cards.

“Yes,” agreed Betty.

“And that it had something to do with shipments and Greendale?” he continued.

Betty nodded in confirmation.

“And now a dead body in Greendale... a Southside Serpent, an organization which has ties to Jason’s murder,” continued Reggie, staring hard at the board. “Made to look like he killed himself, on _Hiram Lodge’s_ orders? No way. Your mom was right, Cooper. It’s too neat.”

“So what are you suggesting?” asked Betty, her brain firing quickly and making connections that were snapshots of images and words, flashing too quickly for her to put it together, but the picture was emerging.

Reggie turned from the board to face her. “It’s a set up. Someone _wants_ Auror Keller to think it’s the Serpents because they’re scapegoats. Someone _wants_ Auror Keller to think it’s Hiram Lodge – a man like that isn’t going to let a bag full of galleons and Gringotts draft notes out of his sight, especially not from jail. And it’s all connected to Greendale.”

Betty fought off a shiver as she stared at the tiny black dot on their map that marked the Muggle village. “Reggie, let’s be honest here. If we can figure this out – why hasn’t Auror Keller?”

Reggie’s frown deepened, and their eyes met. “I don’t know, Cooper, but I think we should take this information to someone who can _bombarda_ this sky high.”

Alarm shot through Betty. “You don’t mean my mother!”

Reggie snorted. “Good Merlin, no.” His dark eyes glittered in the office. “I was thinking a bit higher than Auror Keller. Interested in a trip to London?”

It took her a moment, and then her mouth dropped open and into a wide O of surprise of just where Reggie wanted to go – but at this point, what else could she or their friends do? Slowly, Betty found herself nodding, and then it was like an out-of-body experience: one minute, she and Reggie were in the Black and Gold, and then next, she was wrapped in her winter coat and he in his, and they were stepping off the Knight Bus on an empty London street, walking into a phone booth. Reggie punched in the numbers, 62442, and then a disembodied voice was asking, _Ministry of Magic, what is your business?_ Then he was affixing a badge on the lapel of her jacket and one on his, their wands were weighed, and they were in a lift, surrounded by flying memos of many different colours, whizzing by them of vibrating intensely as they waited for the lift doors to open at the right floor.

They got off on the second basement, and Reggie walked with purpose down the hall (“My father comes here often, Betty, I know where I’m going,” he told her, but she didn’t remember asking). Finally, they stopped in front of a secretary, who eyed them, but Reggie leaned forward and charmed her with a grin and sweet words, and then the door was opening and Reggie shoved Betty through.

She stumbled, slightly, and caught herself just as the man behind the desk looked up in surprise, alarm in his bright emerald green eyes.

Betty cleared her throat. “Um... Mr... um, Director Potter, sir? My name is Betty Cooper, and I’m a student at Hogwarts, as well as a resident of Hogsmeade. It’s about Jason Blossom’s death...”

The wizard, not too tall but broad shouldered and in the blood red robes of the Department of Law Enforcement, nodded slowly.

“Please sit down, Ms. Cooper,” he said, and Betty swallowed thickly, but gratefully collapsing on a chair opposite of his to hide her trembling legs.

“I don’t know where to start,” she muttered, her hands clenched tight.

There was an easy smile on the wizard’s face, one that emphasized laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, and even wrinkled a barely-there lightning bolt scar on his forehead. “I find starting at the beginning helps.”

Betty took a deep breath and she released her hands with her breath, laying them flat on her tights. “Well, I suppose it started before I left for my summer internship, but...” she stopped, bit her lip, and shook her head. She knew how to begin, and she felt a fission of pride in knowing that while these weren’t her words, but someone else’s, they were perfect.

“No. No, this story is about a town; a small town and the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world... safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though and you start seeing the shadows underneath... and on July 4th, these shadows began to emerge...”

*

Betty opened the door and stepped out of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement’s office hours later. She was exhausted and her throat hurt from the amount of speaking she did, and her brain felt fuzzy after Director Potter asked for copies of her memories of events for his Pensieve, but... she also felt lighter. Hopeful.

Reggie stood abruptly upon seeing her, having been folded awkwardly on a chair in the hallway.

“How’d it go?” he asked lowly as she stepped forward.

“Oh,” said Betty, thinking back to the disbelief, then concern, then rage and eventual calm that overtook Harry Potter’s face. “Well, I think.”

“Well?” echoed Reggie, incredulously. “Is he going to do anything? To find Jason’s murderer? What about Young Frankenstein’s dad?”

Betty rolled her eyes and began walking down the hall, Reggie following on his long legs easily. “He’s going to do an internal investigation,” she said quietly. “But something was already going on in the Auror department in Hogsmeade. This information we brought to him only adds to it and the urgency.”

“What was it?” asked Reggie.

Betty shrugged and they reached the lift. “No idea, he didn’t say. But he did say that there was an ICW agent already stationed in Hogsmeade, keeping an eye out on things.”

Reggie whistled. “An ICW agent? If there’s one of those, then whatever it is the Aurors are looking at, it’s something that crosses borders.”

Betty nodded. “I know who the agent is, we’ve seen him before.”

“We have?”

She glanced at him. “I don’t think you have – but _I_ have, I meant.”

They fell into silence at the lift rose, taking them to the Atrium at the Ministry and then back to Hogwarts via the Knight Bus, _unless_ , thought Betty, _Reggie has some Floo powder in his pockets_.

Just as the lift came to a wobbling stop, the same disembodied female voice from the telephone booth announcing, “Ground floor,” Betty’s mirror vibrated and burned hot against her skin. She pulled it out quickly, hearing Kevin’s tinny voice calling, “Betty Cooper, Betty Cooper!”

“What the hell is that?” asked Reggie, staring at the mirror as she flipped the compact open.

“Kevin?”

“Betty,” her friend said, his face and voice small. “Where are you? I need you here in Hogsmeade, like, yesterday. Can you meet me at the Shack?”

“Oh, okay,” blinked Betty, glancing up at Reggie, who was staring at her and the mirror in confusion. “We’ll meet you there.”

“We?” asked Kevin, squinting. “Who’re you with? I’m with Jughead, and Archie is grounded and Veronica is back at the Pembrooke, packing.”

“ _Packing_?” repeated Betty, chock in her voice. “What? Why?”

Kevin’s face fell. “That’s right, you weren’t with us when we went to Greendale. Her mom showed up and it was the final straw that broke the hippogriff, I think – she said they were heading back to Paris and out of Hogsmeade, first thing. And Mr. Andrews showed up and was totally pissed at Archie.”

Betty’s mouth worked as she tried to think of something to say.

“Anyway, who are you with? And where are you, come to think of it?” asked Kevin. “You’re not in Hogwarts, are you?”

“Um, no,” said Betty, mentally shaking herself. “No, I’m not. I’m with Reggie—”

“ _REGGIE?_ ” she heard Jughead’s tinny voice exclaim and saw Kevin’s wince in response.

“—and we’re in London,” she finished. “Reggie had an idea and I thought it was a good one, regarding Jason’s death, so we followed up on our end.”

“Did you learn anything?” asked Jughead, shoving Kevin from the mirror and looking worriedly up at her.

She and Reggie shared a look, and then she looked around the not-quite deserted Atrium. “We’ll tell you when we’re back. See you there.”

She ended the connection, and the two quickly made their way back to the surface and into Muggle London, catching the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade. Within twenty minutes, they were trudging up the path to the Shrieking Shack and the two figures who huddled against the far wall, out of the wind.

“There you are! It’s been _ages_ ,” complained Kevin as she and Reggie walked up to them.

Jughead, casting a small stink eye at Reggie, leaned forward and took Betty’s gloved hand in his bare one, and pulled her forward for a kiss hello. She sank into him and it, humming against his warm lips.

“What are we doing here, String Bean?” asked Reggie, ignoring Betty and Jughead.

Kevin hunched his shoulders, and said miserably, “Joaquin.”

Betty broke from the kiss and turned to him, but Jughead kept his arm around her. “What about him?”

“My dad asked for one person to contact,” explained Jughead, making everyone turn to him. “Instead of contacting Mrs. Andrews, or your lawyer, Reggie,” he said with a nod to the Gryffindor, who nodded back, pleased, “He owled Joaquin and we couldn’t figure out why.”

“So I went to the Whyte Wyrm earlier,” sighed Kevin, taking up the story, “And found him and brought him to Archie’s garage and then we – me, Archie, and Veronica – asked him to tell the truth.”

His shoulders hunched further and Betty withdrew from Jughead’s arm to hug her friend. Kevin wrapped his own around her and muttered, into her shoulder, “Turns out the Serpents were using me as a spy on my dad and us to figure out what we knew. The whole time.”

“Oh, _Kev_ ,” Betty’s heart broke for her friend.

“I really liked him, Betty,” whispered Kevin brokenly into her hair.

Reggie clapped him on the shoulder, in solidarity and didn’t make a comment, which Betty considered a win in the scenario. Eventually, Kevin withdrew, sniffling. He hadn’t shed any tears, but his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, his voice cracking a bit, “Joaquin admitted that FP told him to change the plan and get rid of something. But, whatever it is we’re looking for, Joaquin didn’t know if it would help your dad, or make things worse.”

The four shared a look, and then Jughead flicked his right hand out, his wand sliding into his grasp immediately from his holster. Nonverbally, he cast _lumos_ and lit the area around them.

“Then I guess we’re going to find out,” he said determinedly, a hard look in his eyes.

“Dude, that is so cool, is that a vintage Alastor Moody holster?” asked Reggie, staring at Jughead’s right arm.

The Slytherin frowned. “Yeah...?”

“Where did you get that? I’ve been wanting one _forever_ , but they’re so expensive and my dad won’t get me one,” the other teen gushed.

“Oh.” Jughead blinked and looked down at his arm, covered by his denim jacket. “It was my aunt’s – it’s my great-aunt’s holster. Hestia Jones? She was in the Order of the Phoenix and they all had these...”

“ _Bro_.” There were stars in Reggie’s eyes, and Betty rolled hers and she and Kevin also lit their wands and began to walk towards the Eversgreen forest, which turned into the Forbidden Forest – and also where the Blossom Elf wine building and Jason’s getaway broom once was.

Eventually they ended up walking in a line, Jughead and Reggie on the far ends, with her and Kevin in the middle.

“Why did he wait so long to tell us?” sighed Betty, as they descended further into the forest. A lone owl hooted above them.

“FP owled him from jail,” said Kevin, eyes darting left and right as they swept the floor. “Told him to forget about their plan, some contingency plan. He said it was too dangerous.”

Moments later, they stumbled out of the forest into the blackened clearing from the Fiendfyre that destroyed the initial potions boxes and Jason’s broom.

“Déjà vu,” breathed Jughead.

Reggie had wandered a bit, and with his wand the only source of light to find him with, called, “Hey, right here! I found something.”

The other three rushed towards him, and there, just at the edge of the blackened soil, where the bushes and trees were singed and black but not destroyed, was something peeking out from underneath. Betty and Kevin held their wand aloft and high, and Reggie and Jughead knelt in the mossy charred earth, and shifted dirt off the object – revealing something green and silver.

“Merlin,” breathed Reggie, “It’s Jason’s Quidditch jersey!’

“But that went up in flames!” protested Betty.

Jughead shook his head grimly. “Apparently not. Gods above – it was my dad! My dad followed us, Betts, and he cast the Fiendfyre to destroy the evidence. He took the jersey first and kept it, and then stashed it again as insurance.”

“Contingency,” corrected Kevin, absently, his eyes firmly on the jersey.

Reggie grabbed it and stood, and Jughead spent a moment longer checking the rest of the area in case anything else was left behind, but nothing was.

“Now what?” asked Kevin quietly.

“Let’s go back to Hogwarts,” suggested Jughead, meeting everyone’s eyes. “We’ll keep this with me in the Room of Requirement and tomorrow – tomorrow we’ll all meet up before breakfast and figure this out.”

“Not tonight?” asked Kevin, his lower lip trembling in nerves.

Jughead shook his head. “No – Archie’s grounded and Veronica’s packing, remember?”

“V’s mom won’t pull her just yet,” argued Betty, thinking logically. “In four weeks, the term is up. It was probably a knee-jerk reaction and if they pull her out of Hogwarts and return to Paris, it’ll be over the holidays.”

Reggie nodded, and Kevin sighed.

“Tomorrow. First thing,” said Jughead firmly. “Seven.”

Betty reached forward and laced her fingers with his. “Seven it is.”

*

By quarter past seven Sunday morning, everyone who was everyone involved in solving Jason’s murder was in the Room of Requirements, which had appeared as a stereotypical police precinct’s office, complete with telephones, old computers, filing cabinets, and vertical blinds.

It had not been Jughead who created it, waiting outside the room for everyone, Jason’s jersey folded underneath his denim jacket, but a giddy Reggie who had never had the opportunity to use (or hear) of the Room of Requirements previously.

Kevin cast a look of disdain at the room and sniffed.

Eventually, they settled on either the office desks or chairs, after clearing one desk and unfolding Jason’s jersey onto it.

Veronica sighed. “This is meant to help FP?”

Betty frowned, and pinched her lips with her fingers. “I don’t know.”

“Looks like more incriminating evidence to me,” added a petulant Kevin, who was still miffed at the Muggleness of the room and Joaquin’s betrayal.

“Yeah, this just confirms that my dad torched Jason’s getaway car,” muttered Jughead, reconfirming what he had said to her, Reggie, and Kevin the night before for Veronica and Archie’s sake, who stared at him in shock. “And that his confession was true.”

Betty shook her head. “No. No way. Why would FP say Jason’s varsity jacket is dangerous? What could that mean?”

Veronica leaned forward in her chair and rested her chin on her hands, perching her elbows on her knees. “I can ask my father.”

Archie shook his head. “His answer would be the obvious, considering we found concrete proof that he hired the Serpents to kill Jason.”

Veronica cast an apologetic glance at Jughead. “Which probably means that your dad pulled the trigger, Jughead. I’m sorry.”

Betty, who had been staring at the jersey, shook her head. “No.”

Reggie looked at her. “What?”

“No! No, I’m not giving up yet,” she repeated, forcefully. She pointed Archie, who was the closest in height to Jason. “Put this on.”

“What?” Archie stared at her.

“Put it on,” demanded Betty, reaching forward and held the jersey up for everyone to see. Like all Quidditch jerseys, it was a pullover that had a built in clasp at the front for the robes to trail behind it, in house colours. The over layer wasn’t with the jersey, but the insides all had pockets for wands.

Archie grimaced but did as she asked, slowly, shucking his sweater and leaving himself in a tank top. “Betty, this is weird.”

Betty shook the jersey and he sighed, reaching forward and pulling it on. Jughead made a face at seeing Archie in the silver and green of Slytherin, and even Reggie took an involuntary step back.

“Bro, you look like him,” he said, disgust mingling with awe in his voice.

Archie rolled his eyes and Betty circled him, looking him up and down clinically. He squirmed and crossed his arms, only to freeze.

“What?” gapped Veronica, leaping from her seat. “What is it?”

Archie brought his left hand to the right arm. “There’s a hole in the wand pocket.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Okay, now we’re just grasping at straws.”

Betty shook her head, and reached for Archie’s right arm, moving her hand from his shoulder down, squeezing the fabric and flattening it. “Okay, no. I don’t know about you guys, but whenever I have a hole in my jacket pocket, I always lose my chap stick in the lining.”

Veronica grinned. “Or my Montblanc?”

Betty was by Archie’s elbow, tracing the fabric around and around until – “Hold on. What the hell?”

She met Archie’s eyes, and he quickly yanked the jersey off, thrusting it at Betty, who flipped it inside out and felt the arm sleeve again. She dug her fingers into the wand pocket, and felt the hole, and then shuffled something from further down the arm sleeve back into it.

There was a tiny clinking noise, and a small bottle fell into the palm of her head.

Reggie laughed. “Nancy Drew strikes again!”

“What is that?” asked Archie, staring at the bottle.

Betty, who had just recently seen something familiar, knew it exactly. “Memories.”

“ _Memories_?” repeated Veronica.

Jughead turned to Kevin. “Didn’t your dad’s files say my dad claimed to be Obliviated?”

Kevin nodded slowly, eyes on the bottle.

“We need a Pensieve,” announced Betty authoritatively, and because they were in the Room of Requirement, it obliged. On the empty desk where Jason’s jersey had lay, a large silver bowl with markings and runes along the outside and swirling blue-grey liquid appeared, shimmering under the fake fluorescent lights of the precinct.

“How does this work?” whispered Archie.

Betty licked her lips. “Um. We pour the memory into the bowl. And then... then we all touch the liquid and we go inside the memory.”

Veronica paled. “What kind of memory is this? What if this is... is...”

Archie’s freckles stood stark against his face and even Reggie swayed a bit on his feet. They had all known Jason, after all.

Betty looked up at her friends. “I...” she trailed off, glancing back down at the liquid. “I have to know.”

She felt Jughead reach out and lace her fingers with his, and felt his acceptance and reassurance. Slowly, her other friends came to stand around the desk, until they were in a rough circle around the rectangular office furniture.

“Do it,” muttered Kevin, and Betty poured in the bottled memory, watching as the silvery mist descended into the blue-grey liquid below. They swirled together and Betty could make out shapes and figures, but nothing distinct.

“On three?” gulped Archie, quickly looking at everyone, to see them nod back.

“One...” began Betty.

“Two...” said Jughead.

“And three,” sighed Archie, and they all tipped forward as one, their noses touching the liquid, and then Betty was falling, falling down and nothing was up or down or right or left, and only Jughead’s hand in her hers was a solid presence.

* * *

She landed on her feet in a dingy, damp room. It was dark, and only one window gave the tiniest traces of light. There were storage shelves lining all one wall, and another held another door and then there were stairs.

Reggie moaned, and Betty quickly turned to see what caught his attention.

Jason sat tied to a chair, magical ropes binding him so that every time he moved, they wriggled and tightened against him. He grit his teeth and strained, pushing his chest out but ultimately, he fell back, gasping.

“This is the Wyrm.”

Betty turned to Jughead, to see him pale and casting a critical eye over the walls. “It’s the same brick and stone in the basement. This is the Whyte Wyrm.”

He seemed to be steeling himself for the eventual reveal of his father.

“When is this?” asked Veronica, looking around.

“Over here,” called Kevin, who was the furthest away from Jason tied in the chair, and resolutely ignoring him. There was a small desk and pile of parchment on it. “There are files for potions shipments here. The last entry is the first week of July.”

“This must have been when they first took him,” realized Betty, eyes wide.

There were footsteps above, leading towards the stairs, and almost immediately, everyone began to scramble, looking for somewhere to hide. They bumped into each other, all the while the steps got closer until a ratty, tin and wiry looking wizard appeared. Betty and Jughead, clutching each other, froze.

Veronica and Archie were under the desk, while Kevin had flattened himself against the wall and Reggie had just stood shock-still.

The man ignored him, and then Archie was snorting, an involuntary nervous laugh. “It’s a memory. We’re not really here, right?”

Betty and Jughead released their grips on each other, slowly.

“Well, whot do we ‘ave ‘ere?” the man sneered, stopping before Jason and then kicking out with a heavy boot against his knee.

Jason cried out.

“Merlin! Isn’t he the dead Serpent we found in Greendale?” asked Veronica, crawling out from under the desk.

Archie squinted. “Yeah, yeah I think he is.”

“His name is Mustang,” supplied Jughead, eyeing the wizard as well. “I’ve seen him before with my dad. Dad says he’s a spot of trouble though.”

“A spot?” Reggie snorted.

“Poor wittle daddy’s boy,” jeered Mustang. “Got caught with our potions, didn’t ‘e? _Red handed_ one could say.”

The wizard whipped his wand out and pointed it at Jason, who stared defiantly. “I said, _redhanded_ , boy.” He then cast something red and spitting that hit Jason’s left hand, tied down to the arm of the chair. It blistered and popped, and ooze and red spilled over Jason’s hand. He cried out in pain.

The other wizard cackled, and Veronica turned, her hand covering her mouth and tears in her eyes as she squeezed them shut tightly. Archie grabbed her and pulled her into his chest, keeping her back to the scene.

Betty, however, focused intensely on the wizard torturing Jason.

“D’yeh know why yer ‘ere?”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” spat Jason, glaring at the wizard.

Mustang stared at him a moment, and then as fast as a snake striking, he had slugged Jason across the cheek, snapping the Slytherin’s face to the other side.

“I don’t take cheek, boy,” he replied coolly. “Yer ‘ere because someone wanted ye ta be.” The wizard leaned forward, his face in Jason’s. “Now, who d’yeh think that was?”

The room faded and spun, and bewildered, Betty clutched at Jughead’s sleeve until it righted again. They were in the same spots as they were, but the scene was different: it was dark, with only a few torches hovering above in the corners to light the room, and Jason was bloodied and pale. His clothes were torn and damp with sweat and other fluids, and his breathing was ragged. It had clearly been tortured and in the chair for a few days at this point.

Mustang stood behind him and the chair, grinning down toothily at him.

“Someone’s coming,” whispered Kevin, although there was no need to. He was the closest to the stairs, and he was staring up at it in horror as the footsteps came closer, thumping down on each step.

Betty gasped.

Clifford Blossom strode into the basement, eyes on his son.

Jason’s face was one of pure shock. “Dad...?”

“Son,” the other wizard replied. He glanced at Mustang, and then back at Jason. “Did you have to rough him up, so?”

Mustang shrugged, and crossed his arms. As he did so, his cuffs rode up and Betty squinted, trying to see the dark shape on his forearm but it was hard to see. “Yeh wanted him able ta talk. Yeh didn’t say nuthin’ ‘bout untouched.”

Clifford sighed, roaming his eyes from Jason’s tousled and dirty hair, to his bruised eye and cheek, split lip, and further down. His eyes lingered on the blood that dried on his hands, where the blisters had ripped the skin raw, coating the rope and rubbing into his wrists painfully. His white dress shirt – worn that day he was snatched to match Cheryl’s white dress – was ripped and torn at the neck and cuffs, and was unbuttoned enough that portions of his chest were visible and scarred.

“Jason, son,” began Clifford, “What were you thinking?”

“Thinking?” replied Jason in astonishment, staring at his father. “Clearly the right thing! What the hell, father? What am I doing here? What did you _do_?”

“More than you, Jason!” roared Clifford, shocking everyone in the room not from the memory. Jason stared stonily back at his father. “I groomed you, you were born for this. From your waking moment, all through the years, I had every hope that you would continue to follow _me_ , the family! The business!”

Jason scoffed and shook his head. “The business? Can you even hear yourself? Merlin, what a joke. Business, indeed.”

“It is a business,” said Clifford lowly, his eyes dark. “And one that you are meant to join at seventeen. That is next month, Jason. And you will do so happily.”

“No.”

The room stilled, and Betty held her breath. There was something else going on here she didn’t know, didn’t understand. Jughead squeezed her hand tightly, his eyes firmly on the two wizards in front of them.

“Jason,” said Clifford, and there was a tiny hint of fear in his eyes. “If you don’t do as I say, I can’t protect you. I can’t stop them.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t want that life, dad! I never wanted it! I wanted to run away!”

“With that Cooper girl?” the disdain was strong in Clifford’s voice. “Her father is a _mudblood_. She’s a halfblood and barely good enough to talk to.”

Jason grit his teeth. “I love her.”

Clifford stared at him, as though he had never seen him before. “Jason – you can’t – those thoughts – what about Cheryl? Your mother?”

“Cheryl wants me to be happy,” retorted Jason, confident in his answers. “And so would mother.”

Clifford eyed his son, for a long, long moment. Then, he said quietly, “You will not change your mind, will you?”

Jason shook his head. “No, father. I won’t.”

The two stared at each other.

“You know what comes next, Jason,” said Clifford quietly.

“Yes,” replied Jason, just as quietly.

“I can’t help you, not anymore,” the elder Blossom continued.

“I know, father,” said Jason, and there was a weak smile at the corner of his bruised lips. “I know. I chose this. I just...” he laughed and it was painful and he began to cough. “I just never thought it would end like this.”

Clifford strode forward, reaching into the breast pocket of the white button up, and pulled out a glittering diamond ring. Jason’s eyes tracked it as the elder wizard tucked it into his immaculate wizard’s robes, the sleeve of his arm sliding down and revealing a dark and ugly tattoo on his inner forearm.

He turned on his heel, presenting his back to his son. From their position, Betty, Jughead, and the others could see him close his eyes, painfully squeezing them shut hard, before opening them. There was a coldness in them that was familiar. “Goodbye, Jason.”

Clifford began to walk away, but the sound of shoe on dirt had Betty turn back around in time to see Mustang stand in front of Jason, his wand pointed at his forehead.

Jason stared down the wand tip, eyes open, eyes calm and unwavering.

“Oh, Merlin...” someone whispered in horror, and Betty wasn’t sure who it was. “No...”

Mustang grinned. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

There was a flash of green light, and whooshing sound, and someone screamed.

There were a few memories – disjointed and stitched together, like the remembrance of the scenes were too traumatic to handle – of FP coming down into the basement, his face pale and mouth wide open as he took in Jason’s body against the chair. A memory of Joaquin, although his face was deliberately blurred and it was only Kevin’s mumbled moan of his name, recognizing his leather jacket, that clued the rest of the them in to his identity, helping FP untie Jason and then wrap him in a blanket.

The memory finished with FP levitating Jason’s body ahead of him, months later, just as school began, to dump his body into the Black Lake, a haunted, and hunted, look on his face.

* * *

They were then forcibly ejected from the memory, landing hard on the carpeted floor as the room quickly morphed into the bedroom Jughead had been using periodically to escape the Slytherin dorms.

Reggie was dry heaving by the fireplace, and Archie had Veronica in his lap, crying. Kevin was pale faced and scrubbing hard at his wet cheeks.

Betty felt numb inside. She had just watched a Serpent with a Dark Mark kill Jason Blossom, watched his father condone it for some reason – but there was something she needed to do.

She turned to the fireplace, where Reggie was collapsed on the floor.

“Betty?” she heard Jughead’s strained voice call her name.

She knelt beside the fire, and the room sensed her needs and a jar of Floo powder appeared at her hand. She reached in and grabbed a handful of the green glitter, and tossed it into the flames. They immediately turned green and crackled.

“Betty,” called Jughead again, scrambling to her and falling on his knees beside her while Reggie slowly pushed himself up with the help of an armchair. “Betty, who are you calling?”

Betty stuck her head into the flames, calling her destination, hoping that the person she needed to talk to would answer.

Luckily, Cheryl did.

Betty eyed the redhead, who had gone home over the weekend, as she had been doing since her brother’s body had been found that September by the Black Lake.

“Cheryl,” sobbed Betty, hiccupping. “You have to get out of that house. Listen to me – you need to leave.”

Cheryl’s eyes roamed over Betty’s tear-struck face. Although she couldn’t see where Betty was, or hear anything else, she seemed to intuitively know what happened – what Betty had discovered.

“I understand,” replied the redhead, her voice calm.

Betty withdrew from the connection, hoping Cheryl wouldn’t be herself and dramatic, and fell into Jughead’s waiting arms.

*

_The following day, Head Auror Keller and Mayor McCoy saw what we watched in the Room of Requirement: Jason, tied to a chair, in the basement of a bar, on the edge of Hogsmeade, while a Serpent, Mustang, taunted him._

_Then, the unthinkable._

_Later, we would learn why my father confessed: Because Clifford Blossom visited him on the night of his arrest, with a threat, that I, Jughead Jones, would suffer the same fate as Jason Blossom, if my father didn’t confess. My dad was protecting me from a monster, and the nightmare was far from over._

*

That Monday, Betty and Jughead took the bottled memory to her parents, revealing nothing of how they found it or where they received the tip to locate it – nor did they admit to watching it – but Alice and Hal noticed their tired eyes, and the bags under them, as well as their pale faces and put one and one together.

That evening, the Coopers had not only seen the memory for themselves, but had sat both Mayor McCoy and Auror Keller down to watch it as well. While both questioned the reporters, Alice and Hal, by agreement, kept all the Hogwarts students from their story and Alice made something up regarding her past history with FP Jones as a fellow Southside community member, and fellow classmates of his from their shared Slytherin days at Hogwarts.

The _Daily Prophet_ broke the story Tuesday morning.

By Tuesday afternoon, Auror Keller, Betty and the rest of the Hogwarts population had learned that they arrived at Thornhill, only for Penelope and Cheryl to point in the direction of the newer mill on the property. Inside, Auror Keller found Clifford’s body.

The coroner would rule his mode of death as poison.

However, if Betty thought things would improve with the truth of Jason’s death, she was wrong. Both she and Jughead had gone straight to the Auror headquarters after the _Prophet_ broke the story that morning, only for Jughead and Auror Keller to descend into a screaming match in the hallway.

“He’s charged with tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, mishandling a body, perjury, and that’s just off the top of my head!” shouted Keller to Jughead, who was red in the face for demanding his father’s release. “He’s not getting out any time soon!”

“That’s not fair!” shouted Betty, watching Jughead from the corner of her eye as he began pacing furiously. “He’s innocent!”

“Of Jason’s death, maybe,” agreed Auror Keller, tiredly, “But not a lot else.”

Furiously, Betty glared at her friend’s father, and grabbed Jughead’s arm, pulling him from the station.

“Betty, what—”

“C’mon,” she muttered, “If he won’t do something about it, then I will. I have an Owl I need to send, Juggie, and then I need to find my brother.”

Jughead gaped as she pulled him along, but followed mutely. After all, the story was far from over.

*

_And our families, far from repaired -- and though the question of Jason’s murderer had been answered that night, a new mystery loomed over Hogsmeade._

_Why had Clifford Blossom allowed it? It was a question only Clifford himself would be able to answer._

_And he took that to his grave._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go, folks. I hope you like my little twist. Have you figured out what's going on yet? How this story will end?
> 
> Back from vacation and of course, I got a head cold. I need this to be done and OVER because guess what? My bestie is the best ever and we're seeing Bob Morley for photos on Saturday! He's totally my inspiration for Ferret, whom you'll be seeing in this story soon enough, too ;) I think.
> 
> Feel free to drop me a line on [TUMBLR](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com/) about what your thoughts are and how this is going to end. Plan is for the last chapter to be out before this weekend.


	24. The Darkest of Times

*

XXIV: the Darkest of Times

*

“Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good and kind and brave because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.”

\- Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

*

_It was the ultimate cliff-hanger; Clifford Blossom had killed himself. But why? Life’s not a Gilderoy Lockhart novel, where the protagonist swoops in and saves the day with a few well-placed spells, getting the girl and the town’s respect._

_It’s a lot messier._

*

Righteous anger only gets someone so far. Then, logic and intelligence takes over. Planning is necessary, and unfortunately, despite her magic’s eagerness to explore some of the darker spells in the family grimoire, Betty didn’t have the sneaky disposition to plan a way for FP to get out of jail without speaking to Harry Potter again, or finding her brother – the ICW hit wizard whose name she didn’t know.

That left her, Jughead, Archie, Veronica, Kevin, and Reggie clustered together at the Gryffindor table Wednesday morning, going over the _Daily Prophet_ article that Alice and Hal had jointly written and published; Jughead was adding a few extra details that had not made it into the article, aided by Betty, from when they had gone to see Auror Keller for FP’s release.

“Merlin,” whispered a shocked Archie. “What the hell was Cliff Blossom doing with those potions?”

Kevin leaned forward. “Not just potions, Archie. They were some of the worst of the worst – many of them had to do with lowering inhibitions or control and poison.”

“Turns out, elf wine was a front for his true business,” added Jughead, ignoring Veronica’s gasp. “They were transporting potions from Hogsmeade out through Greendale as a point of entry through to Eastern Europe.”

“How was Jason mixed up in this?” asked Reggie, a furrow between his brows.

Betty cleared her throat. “From what I can understand, Jason learned about his father’s drug running, and threatened to expose the truth.”

“Which led to Jason’s abduction at the hands of a Southside Serpent named Mustang,” said Veronica, catching on, her mouth open.

“ _But_ ,” Betty’s voice shook and lowered, and they all leaned in, “In the memory, I’m not sure if you saw – but both Clifford Blossom and Mustang had the Dark Mark.”

Jughead continued, “Meaning that Jason’s murder was not at the hands of his father (but definitely assisted by) – he was killed by a Death Eater.”

This sobered the group and they all fell silent.

“A Death Eater,” said Kevin quietly. “It’s been twenty years... after the Blood Wars, I thought...?”

“I think we all did,” replied Archie, looking ill.

“The thing is,” continued Jughead, “Clifford killed Mustang to cover his tracks, making it look like he committed suicide, and tried to implicate Veronica’s father, Hiram Lodge, as having masterminded the whole thing.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Daddy’d never get his hands dirty like that.” Everyone shot her a look, and she flushed under their eyes. “Well,” she amended, “Not that I know of, anyway...”

Jughead sighed, and Betty placed a hand on his knee under the table. “And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Mr. Blossom threatened my life, so that my dad would confess to casting _Avada Kedavra_ , even though all he did was clean up the mess.”

“What’s going to happen with your dad, then?” asked Reggie, glancing between Jughead who sat on one side of the table, next to Betty and Veronica, while he, Kevin, and Archie sat on the other side.

Jughead shot Kevin a dirty look, but the tall Gryffindor just held his hands up, shaking his head. “Keller won’t let him go. Although his twenty-four hour hold was up ages ago, when my dad confessed, it gave Keller the right to keep him in the cell. Of course, Clifford Blossom would have gotten away with everything, too, if it wasn’t for a group of pesky kids who uncovered the truth,” he softened the words with a grin to those sitting around him, and Archie and Reggie grinned back, bumping each other’s fists as they did so, and Veronica beamed out at the group.

“But,” continued Jughead, with a heavy sigh, “My dad is still guilty of a lot of other things, not at the least, accessory to murder by failing to report it to the Aurors.”

This silenced the group, and they all shared downtrodden looks.

“That’s rough, bro,” said Reggie eventually.

Jughead nodded miserably.

“Is Mrs. Andrews still helping the case?” asked Veronica, glancing at Archie who shook his head.

“Mom returned to Paris yesterday,” he said, pausing, and then continuing with a slightly trembling voice, “They signed the divorce papers before she left.”

There were murmurs of condolence around the table for Archie, who weakly smiled at his friends; Veronica then asked, “What about Reggie and his family’s lawyers?”

Jughead and Reggie eyed each other for a moment, and then Jughead said, “I’ll bring it up to my dad.”

“But who Obliviated your dad? And took his memories to bottle?” asked Archie, turning back to the main topic at hand. Of course, everyone else in the Great Hall was talking about the same article and had the same questions, but none knew that they were at the epicenter. There was no one to overhear their conversation or their additional details to the case.

Jughead shrugged. “’Course, dad is saying he doesn’t know”—Reggie snorted—“But it’s possible it was Joaquin.”

Kevin squirmed under the looks his friends shot him, in response.

“Is that true?” asked Archie, tactlessly.

Kevin bristled. “Well, how would I know?”

Betty leaned forward and put her hand on top of Kevin’s, and he gripped it tightly, shifting a bit away from Archie who sat between him and Reggie.

“We’ll probably never know who took his memories,” said Jughead, “And it’s complicating the case because how implicated is he really? We already know someone put Moose under the Imperius – it was either my dad, Clifford, or Mustang – and because my father is missing all his memories related to Jason Blossom now, he’s unreliable as a suspect _and_ witness.”

“Well,” said Veronica eventually, tapping a manicured nail on the newspaper, where the unnamed Auror in the image below squawked silently and moved out of the way. “Your parents are in fine form with this article, B. They’re practically calling for FP to be released!”

Jughead nodded. “Jason’s murder had revealed some dark truths Hogsmeade was not eager to face, and they’re really asking for responsibility.”

Betty made a face. “My parents might be riding their brooms pretty high over the article, but they’re acting like the last week and the last few months didn’t even happen.”

Jughead sent her a sympathetic look, covering the hand on his knee with his own and lacing their fingers together. She griped it tightly to stop from clenching into fists.

“What do you mean?” asked Veronica, carefully.

“Polly’s back home, my dad’s back home, my mom’s back at _The Daily Prophet_. They all just keep smiling and talking about the Yule Ball,” said Betty.

Archie frowned. “That’s good, right?”

“No,” said Betty, shaking her head. She trembled. “No, it’s horrible. It’s exactly the way things were before, pretending to be normal and perfect when really, we’re like... like a Greek suburban tragedy.” She gave a tiny, brittle laugh and Jughead let go of their hands to bring his arm around her instead. “My family imploded, Arch, and we barely survived. If we don’t start dealing with our crap, it’s all gonna happen again.”

The group fell silent, each mulling over Betty’s words. Kevin was morosely pushing his breakfast around his plate when he looked up, swore, and muttered to the group, “Speaking of people pretending to be normal...”

They all looked up to see Mayor McCoy, flanked with Auror Keller and a few other Aurors from Hogsmeade, walk into the Great Hall and straight for the Head Table, where Headmistress McGonagall stood to meet them, with Professors Longbottom and Hagrid.

Jughead snorted as the large group began talking. “Yeah, Mayor McCoy has some hard truths to face given she was allowing the transport to happen. If she wants every last vestige of corruption crushed like a snake under a boot heel, she better start with herself.”

The adults stopped speaking and McGonagall touched her wand to her throat, clearing it and getting the Hall’s attention as the sound was amplified.

“Hogwarts students,” she began, her voice gravelly and low in emotion, “Given the recent... information... about Mr. Blossom’s death, Hogsmeade Aurors would like to conduct interviews with students who had connections with Mr. Blossom in order to establish a better understanding of events.

“This means that some of you will be asked to formally speak with the Aurors,” she said, casting a hard look around the Great Hall, “And if so, you will be given time to contact your parents and guardians for representation. Additionally, Head Auror Keller and Mayor McCoy have informed me,” McGonagall’s voice dropped into disapproval, “That due to the nature of the case, there were will an International Confederation of Wizards representative and agent in the castle today, sitting in on these interviews. He will be arriving later this afternoon with Director Potter of the DMLE.”

Whispers broke out amongst the students; not only was there an elite hit wizard from the ICW attending Hogwarts, but so was Harry Potter, a walking legend.

“As such,” continued McGonagall, raising her voice further to cut across the whispers, “As such, there will be no classes today.”

Whispers erupted into full-blown conversation, and McGonagall lost the students then, who were just eager to speak to their friends and guess what was going on – and who was going to be interviewed. Betty heard her name, as well as Jughead’s, mentioned a few times from the Gryffindor table and those seated nearby.

“I can try to see what’s going on,” offered Kevin, eyeing his father up as he stood to the side and surveyed the Great Hall along with Mayor McCoy.

“I think we’re actually about to find out,” said Betty quietly, eyeing Professor Longbottom as he approached the Gryffindor table. Those around where the group was sitting, fell silent in order to eavesdrop.

“Archie, Miss Cooper,” the Herbology professor and Head of Gryffindor greeted as he stopped near Archie, “Can you please come with me to the Headmistress’ office?”

Jughead’s arm dropped from around her shoulder and Betty glanced helplessly around the table. Veronica made a shooing motion, and she sighed.

 _I am not looking forward to this,_ thought Betty, frowning. She and Archie gathered their now useless bags, as classes had been cancelled.

“I’ll see you in the dorm,” said Veronica, a meaningful glance at Kevin and Jughead as she did so.

 _Oh_ , thought Betty, biting back a smile. Veronica was going to sneak them into the Hufflepuff dorm like they snuck in Kevin and Jughead.

“Thanks, V,” said Betty quietly. Jughead let his hand trail after her as she left, walking side-by-side with Archie as they followed Professor Longbottom out of the Great Hall and towards Headmistress McGonagall’s office.

The office was crowded when they arrived. Headmistress McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, a large, covered wooden piece, filled with parchment in rolls and books, and other paraphernalia, a deep scowl on her face as she peered at Mayor McCoy, who sat in a large, ornately conjured chair across from her, and Auror Keller, who was leaning against the wall near the window.

Betty recognized Harry Potter, sitting in his own conjured chair (although nothing as detailed and gold-gilded as the one Mayor McCoy transfigured), sipping tea from a floral pattern cup. Standing almost opposite Auror Keller, with his eyes able to see both the door and the window, was the tall blond wizard Betty had seen previously: once at St. Mungo’s, and then at the Three Broomsticks when he gave her his handkerchief. He had his arms crossed against his black dragonhide robes, cut to look like a long bomber jacket or Kevlar vest.

Professor Longbottom sat in  chair that he transfigured next to Harry Potter, greeting the Director of the DMLE softly, leaving both Betty and Archie to stand awkwardly.

“Ah, Archie. Betty,” greeted Mayor McCoy, standing from her chair wide a wide smile. “Please, sit down.”

She flicked her wand and two, very less detailed and comfortable chairs, appeared between hers and Director Potter’s.

Sharing a glance, Betty and Archie wordlessly communicated – _what do we do?_ His panicked face read. She tilted her head at the chairs, and he sank into his. They then turned expectantly to Mayor McCoy.

“I’d like to feature you both at the Yule Ball,” she began. “As you know, it’s the 20th anniversary of the end to the Blood Wars this upcoming May.” She cast a fond, thankful look at Harry Potter, who ignored her. Unfazed, she continued, “We would also like the Yule Ball to be a kickoff for the next 20 years of peace and prosperity. And who better represents the future of Hogsmeade and wizarding Britain than the young people who, working with Auror Keller and my office, helped bring peace and justice to our streets once more?”

 Betty’s insides froze. She glanced at Archie, who looked just as shocked as her, staring open-mouthed at Mayor McCoy.

“But, that’s not exactly what happened—” began Betty.

“Let the Mayor finish, Ms. Cooper,” said Auror Keller quietly.

Betty snapped her mouth shut.

Mayor McCoy turned to Archie first, sensing the weakest link. “Archie, the Pussycats will be performing at the Yule Ball, and I would love for you to join them.” Betty spotted Archie’s bewildered grin, and nearly groaned when Mayor McCoy turned to her next. “Betty, I think it’s important that we hear from Hogsmeade’s best and brightest.

“What do you say, both of you?”

Thankfully, Betty noticed that Archie shook his head. “Uh. What about Jughead?”

Mayor McCoy and Auror Keller shared a look that deepened Headmistress McGonagall’s scowl. Betty noticed that Director Potter’s knuckles were turning white on his cup’s handle, and Professor Longbottom was studiously ignoring much of what was going on. A quick glance around the room spotted that the many previous Heads of Hogwarts in their portraits were glaring at the two officials in the room, none as deep or dangerous as Severus Snape from his portrait, or Phineas Nigellius Black – both previous Slytherins.

“I, uh I like Jughead,” said Mayor McCoy, with a nervous chuckle. “And he’s welcome to attend the Yule Ball, of course. But his father is in jail, and think it might be confusing to have him up on the stage.”

Archie scowled now. “That’s so unfair, Mayor McCoy.”

Something hardened in the Mayor’s face. “Betty, Archie, you’re heroes. The kind of heroes that Hogsmeade desperately needs right about now.”

 _Does she know?_ wondered Betty, eyes narrowed. _Does she know that Jug and I overheard her and Clifford Blossom about Greendale?_

“I’d really rather not,” replied Betty primly. She saw the blond ICW wizard – her brother? – smirk and then settle his face into a stoic mask. “Not without everyone who helped on that stage: Jughead, Veronica, Reggie, and Kevin.”

Auror Keller’s face cracked a bit, but he recovered quickly and Betty felt a fission of guilt run through her. _Sorry for throwing you under the Skrewt, Kev._

“Well.” Mayor McCoy looked nonplussed, smoothing down her dress robes. “Well, think about it. It’s in two weeks, so you have time to let me know your thoughts.” She then glanced at the Headmistress, as well as the other men in the room, nodding at them. “Gentlemen.”

“Archie, can you come with me please? We’ll go back to the Gryffindor tower on my way to show Mayor McCoy out,” said Professor Longbottom, standing.

Archie nodded, glancing worriedly at Betty. She smiled back and everyone waited until they had left.

Then, the Director put down his cup, turned to Auror Keller and said, “If you could wait outside, Keller.”

Bewildered, the Head Auror did as the Director said, leaving the office bare save the portraits, McGonagall, and the ICW wizard, along with Harry Potter.

“Tea, Miss Cooper?” he asked, turning to face her.

Betty shook her head, eyes wide.

“No? Very well,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “I wanted to thank you for coming to my office last week. The information you gave me...” he grimaced. “Filled in some blanks.”

“I’m glad to be of help, sir,” she said quietly, unsure of where to look, but decided her hands in her lap was safe enough.

“Right,” he said, smiling slightly. “I want to introduce you to Charles Smythe, a hit wizard for the ICW.” He gestured to the blond wizard lounging against a bare spot of the wall in the office, who caught her eye and nodded his greeting, a tiny smile on his lips. “As you probably guessed, the ICW is involved in the Blossom murder case due to the nature of where the potions were being sent and sold, as well as where some of those ingredients were coming from, since they were being manufactured locally.”

Betty nodded, confused. _Why is he telling_ me _this?_

“I am going to be taking over the case, personally supervising things from here on out,” said Harry Potter, his eyes hard. “There were too many inconsistencies that need to be sorted out within the local Hogsmeade Auror department, especially considering a bunch of Hogwarts students solved this crime.”

There was an odd smile on his face, one that was shared by McGonagall as they glanced at each other. “It seems to be a wee bit of a Hogwarts speciality,” agreed McGonagall with a grin, hiding it behind her own cup as she brought it to her lips.

“Very true,” agreed Harry Potter, and Betty thought back to her History of Magic classes and the amount of trouble and mysteries he solved alongside Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Betty squirmed a bit in her seat.

“That being said,” he continued, emerald eyes back on Betty, “Hogwarts students have this amazing capacity of uncovering things, and keeping some seems a bit silly. In this case, it relates specifically to Mr. Jones and his case.”

“But surely you’re not going to tell _me_ and not Jughead?” burst out Betty.

The Boy-Who-Lived and Man-Who-Conquered grinned. “Not at all; I’m actually going to ask you and Smythe here to go find him and ask him to join me here, as Professor McGonagall has kindly allowed me use of her office for my interviews. Most secure place in the castle, you know.”

With that, Betty rose and Charles Smythe joined her. They walked in companionable silence for a bit, with Betty casting glances at him every so often. Eventually, the taller blond wizard asked, “Is there something on my face?”

Betty flushed and turned her face forward. “No! No, I’m sorry. It’s just...”

“Just?”

Betty’s flush deepened. _Merlin! How do you start a conversation like this? ‘Hey, were you adopted by any chance? My mom gave up a baby twenty years ago, and I think you’re him.’_

Imaginary conversations and ill-thought out conversation beginners flew through Betty’s mind and occupied her until they reached the Hufflepuff dorm, where Smythe was dropping her off.

“Where could I find Forsythe Jones?” he asked, and Betty grimaced.

“Um, call him Jughead. Really,” she began, and then glanced at the dorm. “And he’s probably waiting for me.”

The blond wizard raised his eyebrows in response. Betty was struck at how much he looked like her father in that instant: his jaw was square and strong, and his blue eyes were round and expressive, and his blond hair fell over his forehead rakishly.

And then Betty remembered what she said and she flushed anew. “We’re...um,” she squeaked, “Dating.”

The hit wizard crossed his arms, and Betty fled; she raced into the Hufflepuff dorm and then her room, where all her friends were sitting around on her bed or Veronica’s, or using their desk chairs.

“Whoa, chill, Cooper,” said Reggie, making everyone turn to face her. “What’s the rush?”

Betty sank onto her bed beside Jughead. “Agent Smythe of the ICW wants to talk to you, Jug. Up in Headmistress McGonagall’s office with Director Potter.”

Jughead’s mouth dropped open.

“Well, that’s a hell of an entrance,” muttered Reggie.

“We were just talking about Mayor McCoy and her offer for us, Betty,” said Archie, who had ample time to get down to the Hufflepuff girl’s window for Veronica to let him in.

Betty sighed, turning to her boyfriend. “I told her I wouldn’t do it. Not unless you’re up there with us, Jug.”

Jughead grimaced, but having already heard this from Archie, his feelings hadn’t changed. “I appreciate the righteous indignation, Betty, I do, but Yule Balls aren’t my thing.”

“So we’re not going to go?” she asked, and inside, felt pleased. Their last dance wasn’t quite what she expected, and knowing that they were both consumed with the thought of FP in Auror custody, as well as the knowledge of Jason’s death lingering, she wasn’t interested in attending.

Jughead seemed to be on the same thought, because he let out a relieved sigh at the same time Veronica cried in dismay, “ _No!_ B, we need to colour coordinate our dresses!”

“Not this time, V,” said Betty, shaking her head. “I think a quiet night in is best.” Jughead grinned and her, and she nudged his shoulder. “Besides, don’t you have someone to meet?”

Jughead swore and jumped to his feet. He then glanced worriedly at her and around the room. “Is he going to care that I’m coming from a girl’s dorm? Or your fellow Hufflepuffs?”

Kevin snorted. “With the amount of times _I’ve_ come and gone from this dorm via the front door, I think you’re fine, Jones.”

Reggie perked up at that information, at gazed at Veronica and Betty, taking them in, in a new light. “What have _you_ been up to?”

Jughead grinned nervously and leaned down to peck Betty on the lips. “Until later.”

Against his lips, Betty grinned and replied, “Kitchens. Dinner.”

He nodded, and then was gone, the first of them to be questioned. Betty flopped down on her bed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

*

Instead of using the Great Hall for dinner that evening, Betty, Jughead, Veronica, Archie, Kevin and Reggie decided to eat later, in the kitchens. The day had been long, with Betty, Jughead, Kevin, and Archie all questioned multiple times by Auror Keller and then separately by Director Potter and Agent Smythe, their parents sitting in with most of their interviews except for Jughead and Betty – Jughead’s father being still in a cell at Auror headquarters in Hogsmeade, and Betty’s for working on a new edition of the _Daily Prophet_ when she sat in with Director Potter (“If you’re not safe with _Harry Potter_ , Betty, then it wouldn’t matter, would it?” said Alice, rhetorically, as her reason for not sitting in on that interview).

“Jug, how’s your dad?” asked Archie, later that evening over their soup and bread for dinner; Kevin and Veronica both had chosen salads. None felt like anything heavier. “Did you get in to see him?”

Jughead nodded, swallowing. “Here’s the latest: Mayor McCoy wants my dad to name names in exchange for a lesser sentence.”

“What? Whose names?” asked Reggie.

“The Serpents,” the beanie-wearing Slytherin replied. “Auror Keller thinks they’re the ones dealing the potions that Clifford Blossom brought into the town.”

“My dad says more and more illegal potions are hitting the streets,” added Kevin.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Kevin, relax, this isn’t _The Quibbler_. Anyway, my dad told him _and_ Harry Potter they’re not the ones dealing. Only Director Potter seems to agree, and from what I understood, my dad is going to be released in a few weeks once some of the fervor dies down.”

“Why in a few weeks?” asked Veronica, spearing a bit of her salad on her fork.

“Because, Mayor McCoy hasn’t even said the words ‘Clifford’ or ‘Blossom’ in public since Betty’s parents released their expose,” said Jughead, leaning back on the bench of the table they were sitting at in the kitchens. “Potter thinks that once quiet down, my dad’s release won’t be as big news and it gives him time to finish up an internal investigation into how everything was handled. Besides, right now, it’s all about how the Serpents are the problem, the villains.”

Betty glowered. “This is outrageous. I’m writing an article about this, and not just for the _Black and Gold_ , for _The Prophet_. This is a town story.”

“Okay, as long as the article doesn’t include my dad,” said Jughead, carefully eyeing Betty. She could tell her cheeks were flushed, but she was angry.

“No, it is going to be about your dad, Jug!” she retorted, carelessly slamming her spoon on the wooden tabletop and making Reggie jump in surprise at the noise. “It doesn’t matter how many balls Mayor McCoy throws. This town’s changed – magical Britain has changed. That needs to be acknowledged.”

“Change is usually considered bad,” said Veronica slowly. “And wizards _do not_ take to change well, more than the average human.”

“We’re going to have to get used to it,” said Jughead quietly. “Potter’s idea is to release my father as an informant, but all this is going to be put under a _geas_ so although we all know, we’re not going to be able to speak about it. It’ll be for his protection and the ongoing investigation into Clifford Blossom’s role as a supplier for Eastern Europe. _And_ hopefully answer why they had the Dark Mark.”

“Merlin, why are people so afraid of the truth?” groused Betty. “It would be better if everyone knew that Death Eaters wandering around again and that the Aurors and DMLE are on top of things. Last time, it was all hush-hush and history taught us how well _that_ all went down.”

“Speaking of the truth,” began Veronica, glancing nervously at the redhead sitting beside her, who spat out his hot soup and stared at her in panic, “Archie and I wanted to tell you...”

“ _Ronnie, no_ ,” he hissed, but the raven haired Hufflepuff ignored him.

“We’ve kissed a couple of times.”

There was silence at the table, and then everyone swung their heads to Betty, who smiled beatifically at them.

“It’s okay, V. I appreciate you being honest with me, but I’m with Jughead now,” she turned her eyes on her boyfriend, and they shared a grin. She reached forward and laced their fingers together, resting them on Jughead’s thigh. “If you guys want to be together, I’m happy for you.”

Veronica let out a heavy breath of relief. “Thanks, B.”

Archie leaned forward a bit, across the table and said, quietly, “Thanks, Betty.”

Betty grinned back, aware that Kevin was staring at her and then Veronica strangely. Reggie, on Archie’s other side, clapped him on the back and said something about ‘always knew since the grotto,’ but she wasn’t paying attention. Her hand was warm in Jughead’s, and that was all that mattered.

*

Betty’s anger carried her straight through to the weekend and her Saturday at the Cooper’s. She went home early that morning, after spending time with Jughead in the Room of Requirements, and then straight to her bedroom where she wrote on several rolls of parchment worth, eventually completing her rough draft for her article.

Before dinner, she presented it to her parents in the home office, nervously wringing her hands as her father read it first, and then silently and stoically passing it on to her mother.

Eventually, Alice put it down on the desk, behind which she was sitting, and tossed her reading glasses to the tabletop as well. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever written. It’s passionate, it’s compelling, but...”

Betty felt her heart drop, and she glanced at her father, who gave her a sympatric smile. “But you won’t publish it.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “ Why not?”

“You’re too involved,” said Hal quietly.

“People out there are going to think that you wrote it as a favor to your boyfriend’s dad,” added Alice.

Betty’s lips turned down into a frown. “No, I wrote it because this is the truth.”

Alice sighed. “It’s one version of the truth, honey.”

“Merlin, Mom,” groaned Betty, flopping into the chair opposite the desk. “You’re just as bad as Mayor McCoy. We’re just as bad as this whole town.”

Alice winced at the accusations, and Hal stepped forward from where he was leaning against the doorjamb. “The other reason we don’t want you publishing this anywhere, is there’s been reports of attacks on the Southside.”

Betty paused. “What?”

“Betty, people, not just the Aurors, are going after the Serpents,” explained Alice, leaning forward to look at her daughter. “The whole of Hogsmeade agrees with Mayor McCoy. Crime is spreading. There’s real anger out there, Betty. And they’re needing to focus it somewhere.”

“Right now, it’s the Serpents, and we don’t want you suddenly becoming a target,” finished Hal, his voice low and eyes hard. It was reminiscent of her earlier talks with her parents about Polly and her pregnancy.

“We were already a target!” argued Betty hotly. “Mom’s family – dad, your history with the Blossoms! Polly and her pregnancy! Me and uncovering the truth, as well as Jug...”

Alice’s eyes went hard. “That’s exactly why, Betty. You’re already in deep – we want you safe and out of it.”

Betty shook her head. “You can’t just tell me to stop now, mom. Not now. Not yet.”

The three stared at each other, unsure of where to continue their conversation. If there was one trait they all shared, it was stubbornness.

That evening, Polly carried the conversation at dinner, enthusing about baby names and how they were going to do up her room and clear out the attic for the babies when they came. Betty pushed her food around her plate, trying to be happy for her sister as she began a new stage of her life, but it was hard when her thoughts raced about her article.

 _Well, if they won’t publish it... I will with the Black and Gold_ , she thought darkly, spearing a pea viciously and then chewing it angrily.

As soon as she was able, she left the Cooper household in Hogsmeade and returned to Hogwarts through the Honeydukes passage. Just as Betty turned the corner to the Hufflepuff dorm, she saw Archie come from that direction. His hair was mussed and his lips and cheeks pink; Betty bit back a smile when she realized that he had been spending his Saturday with Veronica in the Hufflepuff dorm while she was at dinner with her parents in Hogsmeade.

“Betty!” he called, upon seeing her. He jogged the few steps until they were standing within arm’s reach. “Where were you?”

“My parents for dinner,” she replied. “Were you with V?”

Archie nodded, his face morphing from flushed pleasure to worry. “Betty, I know, you said, you’re okay about me and Veronica, but I just wanted to make sure, because—”

“Because last time I said I was okay, I wasn’t,” laughed Betty, agreeably. “But this time, I promise I am.”

“Great,” replied Archie, but there was something off about his tone. Betty didn’t quite want to examine it, however, pushing forward with her own curiosity.

“You and Veronica, you’re...?”

“I like her, a lot. She’s amazing,” gushed Archie, but again, his animated face faded quickly. “But a little part of me always thought—”

Alarm bells rang in Betty’s head and she quickly broke in, speaking over her childhood friend. “We’re both so lucky. I mean, don’t you think? To have found the people that we were meant to be with. And that we’re all friends. I mean, who would have thought, at the beginning of the school year?”

Archie reeled back a bit, rocking on his heels at the force of Betty’s reply. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah,” he chuckled weakly. “Who would have thought?”

“Anyway, Arch,” said Betty, brightly and falsely, “It’s been a _long_ night with my parents. I’m going to head to the dorm and get some sleep. Don’t take too long to get back to Gryffindor! Trev is out patrolling tonight.”

Archie managed a weak grin and wave in response, and Betty waited until he was around the corner and out of sight to release her breath.

Firmly pushing the odd conversation with Archie aside (as she certainly didn’t want to bring that up to either Jughead _or_ Veronica), she gave the password to the barrels and entered the Hufflepuff dorm and then went straight into her dorm room. Veronica was in the bathroom, applying a facial mask of some kind, with the door wide open and wearing her silk bathrobe.

“B!” she greeted, trying to not move her facial muscles much. “Dinner over already?”

Betty nodded and fell onto her bed, staring up at the low ceiling. “Polly and I got to speak a bit, and she told me about her time in Thornhill.”

Veronica left the bathroom, making a face as she settled near Betty’s knee. “The whole Clifford Blossom thing – the memories – they’re chilling, Betty. I’m telling you, there are some dark goings on at Thornhill.”

Betty turned her face to face her friend. “Well, not just at Thornhill. Town wide. You can feel it.”

Veronica’s face took on a sly slant. “Mmm... Something wicked this way comes. Which reminds me, I loved your article. Thank you for the advanced copy.”

Betty sat up, grinning, moving to sit tailor-style. “Good, because I already cast _gemino_ on it with the _Black and Gold_ , prepping the owl delivery for circulation Monday morning.”

The two shared a grin, before it faded from Veronica’s face. The new Hufflepuff leaned forward and touched Betty’s knee. “Betty, now that it’s just us girls, and at the risk of us failing the Bechdel test, are you legitimately cool with Archie and me? Swear on the December issue? And on my copy of _Forever_ by Judy Blume?”

Betty chuckled. “Honestly, this is a night of reassurance, I think.”

“What?”

Betty shook her head. “Never mind. Of _course_ , V. You were around when everything happened. It’s been _months_ since I even thought romantically about Archie and even then, it was all wrong. I promise. There is nothing between us.”

Using the one arm to prop herself up, out of Veronica’s sigh, she crossed her fingers. _Merlin, I_ hope _there is nothing on Archie’s end towards me now because that would be_ terrible _! I am with Jughead and completely happy. And V deserves happiness, too._

Veronica began talking about her evening with Archie, with what they got up to, and Betty nodded in all the right places, but couldn’t _quite_ ease the feeling of uneasiness from the pit of her stomach – something was coming, and she wasn’t sure how it would go down.

*

It happened between breakfast and lunch, around third period.

She was in Literature with Jughead, and they were nearly done for the day. Professor Adams was reading from a collection of poetry, and everyone in the class was paying attention when the noise outside the room began.

At first, they ignored it; it was just a few students talking loudly in the hall. But then the noise grew, and grew, until Professor Adams huffed and snapped the poetry text shut with a loud _snap_. “Well, I suppose we’re done for today, then.”

Betty and Jughead took their time gathering their things, while Dilton pushed by them quickly; he hadn’t quite forgiven either for their interrogation earlier that semester.

Outside the class, Jughead frowned and held tight on Betty’s arm. The hallway was excessively crowded with students of all years and Houses, talking loudly and laughing. There was even a camera flash.

“What’s going on?” he asked rhetorically, muttering under his breath.

Betty stood on her toes, trying to see over the crowd. A few people turned towards them and began talking. “I’m not sure. I can’t see anything.”

A burly Ravenclaw pushed by them, turning and shouting to his friend, who followed behind laughing gleefully, “Check it out!”

Jughead and Betty shared and look and began pushing forward, realizing that the crowd was coming from a few doors down – at the Black and Gold office. Soon, more people were turning their way, staring at them and whispering.

When they reached the front of the crowd, Betty’s heart stopped.

Hanging from a piece of rope was a blonde effigy, splattered in red. A copy of the Black and Gold article she wrote and asked her parents to publish in the _Prophet_ was stuck on the door of the office, covering it like wallpaper.

In red, the words _Go to Hell Serpent Slut_ sprawled in large capitals across the stone between the Black and Gold office door and the broom closet at the other end.

“Betty,” said Jughead lowly.

Betty stepped forward, arm outstretched to tear down the parchment.

Jughead stepped up quickly and yanked her arm down. “Betty. Hey, no—”

“It’s nothing, Jug,” said Betty, pushing against him. “It’s just a jerk with a can of paint and some tape.”

Jughead wrapped his arms around her and began pushing her down the hall, against the crowd of students, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s paint, okay? And I doubt that’s just tape – it’s probably a permanent sticking charm.”

Betty collapsed against him, heavy. Her face felt flushed and heated, shame warring with indignation. “Who would _do_ that? Why?”

Jughead kept her tight and close to him, moving down the hallway until they were past the Entrance Hall and near the Hufflepuff dorm. It was much quieter, as only Hufflepuffs and Slytherins used those corridors. Away from the crowd and prying eyes of her fellow Hogwarts students, Betty felt her composure crumble.

She sniffed and Jughead leaned forward, using his thumbs to wipe them away as they fell. He sighed. “As long as you’re with me, you’re writing articles about me and my dad, trouble’s just gonna keep coming at you from all sides.”

Betty shook her head, and Jughead’s hand slid to cup her jaw. “It was just one jerk.”

“It’s _not_ just one jerk,” sighed Jughead lowly. “It’s Mayor McCoy. It’s Auror Keller. It’s the entire multiverse telling me that I don’t belong here.” He scowled and turned his face away, hands slipping off her cheeks and jaw to her shoulders. “Why don’t I just do everyone a favour—”

It was Betty’s turn to reach up, cupping his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her. “Hey, hey. You belong here just as much as everyone else. This is your home.” She dipped her chin a bit to look at him. He struggled to keep his eyes off her, but when she spoke, he glanced back, locking his blue eyes on her green. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, but Betty was unconvinced. He sighed, saying with more force, “Yes.”

“Good,” she replied.

His lips twitched into a small, sincere smile. “I thought I was supposed to be comforting you?”

“Yeah, well,” grinned Betty, “That’s what we do – we comfort each other. Together.”

A soft smile stretched his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned forward, angling his head. Betty, being the shorter of the two, stretched up and met his mouth halfway, brushing her lips lightly against his first once, then twice, and then Jughead made a noise in the back of his throat. One arm cinched around her waist and the other at the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening their kiss.

Betty moaned against his mouth, sinking into his solid form. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers reaching up and playing with the soft strands of hair that escaped underneath his beanie.

Eventually they pulled apart, breathless, their noses brushing.

There was soft affection – and maybe something more? – in Jughead’s eyes as he looked down at Betty in the flickering torchlight of the darkened hallway, just outside of the Hufflepuff dorms.

“Let’s get you back to your dorm, Betts,” he murmured, and together they walked around the corner, eyes flicking back to the form beside them, comforted by the other’s presence.

That all came crashing down as they stood outside the barrels.

Each and every one was covered in graffiti, harsh and angry words that repeated over and over. Betty gasped, eyes filling with tears and stumbled back into Jughead’s chest. Her trembling hands covered her mouth as pain lanced through her.

_Death Eater. Death Eater whore._

“How the fuck did no one see this earlier?” fumed Jughead, hands tightly grasping Betty’s shoulders from behind.

Betty could barely think, couldn’t make out Jughead’s angry grumblings. She stood, curling in protectively to herself as Jughead strode past her and reached for the correct barrel for the Hufflepuff entrance, and began pounding on it.

 _Gods above, do my fellow Hogwarts students hate me that much? For writing an article?_ She thought. Distantly, she made out an angry Ambrose opening the Hufflepuff passageway door, staring at Jughead only for that face to slide into anger as Jughead explained what was across their entrance.

Soon, the hallway outside the Hufflepuff dorm was filled with angry ‘Puffs, ranging from the youngest and littlest first year to ready-to-graduate sevenths.

Betty stood off to the side. Jughead was practically vibrating in his anger, and Veronica, her hair in curlers and in her silk bathrobe, stood at Betty’s other side, their arms looped together.

“Has someone gone to Professor Vector?” someone asked.

“This won’t come off with _scourgify_!” complained another.

“Who did this!?” demanded another.

“How could they!” protested an irate upper year.

Eventually, Ambrose, in lieu of Trevor who was on rounds elsewhere in the castle, and in lieu of Betty, who was too emotionally compromised, herded the younger students back into the dormitory until only the fifth and seventh year prefects, along with Veronica and Jughead, were outside the dorm, waiting for their Head of House.

Headmistress McGonagall arrived the same time as Septima Vector, with their Head Boy Theodosius Tadpole and Head Girl, Maria Rodriguez, on their heels.

Both professors drew up short upon seeing the barrels, McGonagall’s lips pressing into a white, thin line in her anger. She muttered something and the writing all disappeared, but the words were burned into Betty’s memory.

“Miss Cooper,” she heard someone say, from far away. Jughead touched her shoulder and she blinked, brought out of her thoughts and the afterimage of the words.

“Hmm?”

Betty turned to Headmistress McGonagall. “Miss Cooper – are you all right?”

 _Was she?_ Betty wasn’t sure. She shook her head a bit, and at her side, Veronica tightened her grip.

The Headmistress sighed, and Professor Vector clucked her tongue.

“Disgraceful,” the Head of Hufflepuff muttered under her breath. “Absolutely appalling. And there aren’t any portraits down here to know who did it.”

“It’s fine,” said Betty through bloodless lips, ignoring Veronica’s cry of “B!” and Jughead’s own disbelieving face. “Really – we can’t prove anything and... well... people are entitled their opinions of me. Maybe just not entitled to property damage.”

McGonagall did not look pleased, but – _there’s nothing she can do,_ thought Betty morosely. _There are no suspects, and despite what they wrote, they weren’t wrong. My family does descend from Death Eaters._

“Miss Cooper,” murmured Vector quietly, eyes wide.

“We will investigate this, Miss Cooper,” promised McGonagall, her Scottish burr thickening in anger. “I can promise you, that.”

Jughead kissed Betty’s temple and gave her a worried squeeze at her hip, his eyes wide and dark as he said goodnight; Betty missed his glance to Veronica and her answering nod. Instead, Betty let Veronica lead her to their dorm, and tuck her in – as though she needed the reassurance and that in the morning, the nightmare would be over.

It wasn’t, when she woke.

Instead, Veronica was already dressed and waiting for Betty, and stuck to her side when they left their sixth year dorm. Trevor, Ambrose, and Adam, her fellow sixth year Hufflepuffs, stood waiting like sentry guards outside their room. And so were others.

Perplexed, Betty let her eyes roam the Hufflepuff common room with a confused smile on her face. “What’s going on?”

“Our school motto might be _never tickle a sleeping dragon_ ,” began Ambrose angrily, “But here’s another: _don’t mess with Hufflepuff_!”

A cheer went up around the room, and the large crowd descended en mass to breakfast that morning, a thriving, heaving crowd of angry black and gold.

Veronica, at Betty’s side, slid her a sealed parchment. “This came when you were still sleeping this morning. I think it’s from your parents.”

Shielded in the middle of the crowd, Betty took the parchment and opened the letter, her eyes growing wide as she read.

“What’s it say?” asked Veronica.

Betty handed the letter over, her mother’s precise and perfect cursive words sitting heavily: _We are VERY upset ... we will get to the bottom of this, Betty, I promise ... how dare someone slander the Cooper name ... I have some contacts ... stay with your friends, they’ll keep you safe ... Polly says hello and she loves you ... we love you ... be safe._

“That’s very kind of your mother,” said Veronica quietly, passing the letter back.

Betty shrugged. “Not if she’s using her contacts. Honestly – what good does this do? She needs to do what is _right_ and not what is _easy_. People will make up their mind about me and my family no matter what. It’s just another slice of drama in our lives. Digging up dirt on these people only makes the entire thing cyclical.”

Veronica nodded thoughtfully, and the Great Hall fell silent as the Hufflepuff crowd appeared for breakfast, ignoring the stares and whispers of the other students with grace and poise that rivalled Slytherin at their coolest.

Betty was kept surrounded at the table, with Veronica on one side; exceptions were made when Archie, Kevin, and Reggie made a statement by abandoning the Gryffindor table to join Hufflepuff, and a space was immediately opened for Jughead on Betty’s other side by Adam sliding closer to Trevor when the Slytherin appeared.

Although the rest of the week passed quietly, if not for heightened tension, it came to a head on the first of December, when Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were set to play the final Quidditch match of the semester.

Cheryl, in mourning, and wearing all black (not even a speck of green), approached Veronica that morning with a folded up t-shirt in her hands.

“Veronica,” she said, quietly, from the side.

Surprise flashed across Veronica’s face for a moment, and Betty saw Cheryl tighten her fists around the fabric in fear of being rejected.

“Cheryl?” asked Veronica, in confusion.

The redhead thrust the shirt she was holding at Veronica, who took it gingerly and unfolded it. Betty gasped. The letters HBIC on the back had her glancing at Cheryl in surprise.

“It’s yours,” said the Slytherin quietly. “I haven’t been a very good captain since Jay-Jay’s death, and you are a much better leader for the Dragons than I am. The girls listen to you, and you are more than capable of coming up with routines.”

Kevin, the only other of their friends at the table with him, dropped his fork on his plate at the admission.

“But, Cheryl,” protested Veronica, while Betty felt a deep sense of _wrong_ begin in her stomach, “You’re the captain. Not me.”

“Not anymore,” replied Cheryl, turning and walking away, leaving Veronica holding the shirt.

“What are you going to do?” asked Kevin, eyes wide.

Betty added, “And are you going to call a practice for the match tonight?”

Veronica shook her head, slowly, folding the shirt and then stuffing it into her bag. “I think I’ll let this sit over the holidays. Cheryl will probably claim it back in January.”

Kevin agreed, humming, but Betty frowned.

Archie flopped onto the bench at Kevin’s side, hair tousled from sleep and bags still under his eyes as he began piling carbohydrates onto his plate eagerly. Kevin, Veronica, and Betty stared.

“What?” he asked defensively, around a mouthful of toast. “Game’s in an hour.”

“You’re not even playing,” pointed out Betty, eyes wide.

“So?” mumbled Archie. “I want to get a good seat. It’s going to be a massacre with how angry Hufflepuff is.”

Reggie strolled over, and having heard the last bit, grinned widely. “I can’t wait!” he enthused and Betty and Veronica shared a horrified look.

Within the hour, the large group of friends, ranging from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, met with their lone Slytherin by the clock tower. Reggie decided to go ahead to sit with Moose, and Kevin morosely joined, hoping that Midge wouldn’t single him out again in her commentary.

The four lagged behind, Betty and Jughead holding hands.

“Still no word from McGonagall on who did that to the Black and Gold office and the Hufflepuff dorm?” asked her boyfriend quietly at her side.

Betty shook her head.

Jughead scowled.

“Oi, what’s that?” called Archie, breaking into the quiet conversation between the two of them, causing Betty to crane her neck in the direction her friend was pointing. A black speck against the bright clear blue of the December morning grew larger, a strong contrast to the puffy white clouds behind it.

An owl swooped down in front of Veronica, and Archie held out his arm for it to perch. A letter was attached at the bottom, a tiny scrap of torn parchment.

With shaking hands, Veronica took it, read it, and promptly paled.

“What? What is it?” asked Betty, stepping closer. Veronica passed the paper to her and turned away, eyes scanning the small clusters of people heading towards the Quidditch pitch.

 _Thanks for trying,_ loopy, girly handwriting said. _I’m going to be with Jason now_.

“Merlin!” gasped Betty, handing the note to Jughead and Archie, who let the owl push off and head back to the Hogwarts owlry.

“What?” Archie squinted and read the paper, alarm on his face when he asked, “Where would Cheryl go to be with Jason?”

“The Black Lake,” replied Jughead promptly.

“We have to go! Guys, we have to go!” called Archie, turning and running in the opposite direction of the Quidditch pitch and crowd, back towards the castle and around it.

Jughead, Betty and Veronica quickly followed, their breaths harsh against the cold winter air. Their steps were even and hard against the cleared pathways around the school, but as soon as Archie stepped off, Betty found herself struggling in the ankle-high snow.

“Cheryl?” called Veronica, her eyes scanning the shoreline and not seeing the redhead.

Elsewhere, Midge’s voice rang across the grounds: “WITCHES AND WIZARDS, WELCOME TO THE LAST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE SEASON, HUFFLEPUFF VERSUS RAVENCLAW AND IT PROMISES TO BE A REAL DOOZY OF A GAME.”

“Cheryl? Cheryl?” called Archie, panting as they stopped at the shore, looking up and down the empty beach. “She’s not here.”

Betty felt the cold numbing her slowly from the outside in, and dreaded the idea of not being able to find Cheryl and stop her.

“FOR HUFFLEPUFF, WE HAVE TREVOR MCCOY LEADING HIS TEAM,” continued Midge, and Betty tried to block her out.

A loud crash had Betty turn, and there, in the distance, in the treeline of the Forbidden Forest, there was a flash of red.

“Over there!” shouted Jughead, only for him to mutter next, “ _Merlin_.”

Cheryl had her wand out and was blasting away at the trees in anger, but her shots were going wide and missing much of her intended target, bouncing off the severed limbs and onto the frozen Black Lake, cracking the thick ice. Cheryl herself was at the shoreline, using the distance as protection for her spellfire, but she kept walking back, closer and closer to the frozen water.

“She’s over there!” shouted Archie, beginning to run towards her again, with Veronica pausing only for a moment before following.

They all shouted, in a mangled mix, “ _CHERYL_!”

The redhead Slytherin looked up, surprise across her face. She had walked backward enough that she was on the ice, her wand out and fizzing sparks of deep red.

Jughead yelled, loudly, “Cheryl, stop! What are you doing?”

There was something heartbreaking about Cheryl’s face – like she hadn’t expected anyone to come to her after sending Veronica the note.

Veronica, at the shoreline, took a few steps forward.

Archie threw out an arm to stop her, and Veronica bounced into it. “Wait, wait! Wait, Ronnie! The ice.”

Jughead, at his side, cast a cautionary look at the shoreline where they stood, despite Cheryl having gone under. “He’s right. Too much weight, and we’ll all go under.”

“Can we _accio_ her?” hiccupped Betty, feeling frozen tears on her cheeks.

Archie’s eyes narrowed, and they looked up and down the edge of the Black Lake, wondering. He then turned back to Cheryl, pleading, “Cheryl! Cheryl, please. Just come to the shore and we’ll figure this out together, okay?”

Too far to hear her speak, they were close enough to see her face change into acceptance, and almost wonderment. She took a few tentative steps forward, glancing down and realizing that she had stepped too far out to the lake when she was casting her spells – but that long thin face quickly shifted into panic and then fear as the ice beneath her feet creaked and then snapped.

“CHERYL!” screamed Veronica, rushing forward.

Everyone spread out and Archie and Jughead fell to their knees near the hole in the ice, Jughead frantically brushing snow off the ice as he did so, spotting the long, wavy red hair in the water below, moving away from the shore.

“Merlin, the current has her. Spread out, spread out! She’s here! She’s here!”

Veronica gasped as Archie scrambled forward, following Jughead’s pointing. “Archie, be careful!”

Jughead looked up, saw Betty standing just behind, her wand out. “Betty! Get help!”

“How?” hiccupped Betty, looking around. Everyone was at the Quidditch match.

Veronica crouched at her side, her eyes stuck on Archie, who knelt by the ice and pointed his wand. “Stand back!” he ordered.

Veronica screamed when he cast the first spell.

“Use your Patronus!” said Jughead, stepping back to be at her side, his eyes focused on her face.

Betty stared at her boyfriend, something clicking in her as the numbness and ice in her veins thawed and heat overtook her – she wasn’t helpless. She could help.

She ignored the grunts and shouts from Archie as he cast _bombarda_ over and over, breaking through the thick ice, Veronica shouting her encouragement. She thought about Jason finally at rest, of the happiness Cheryl spoke of him, of Jughead and her friends and the comfort her friends brought her –

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

Her caracal burst from her wand, pounced in the snow and then circled her, waiting and looking up at her in its ghostly, shimmering form. “Please, go find the Headmistress, any of the professors. We need help. Bring them here.”

The ghostly animal disappeared in a blur of white, lost against the snowy landscape, towards the Quidditch match. A rousing cheer erupted from the stands, and Midge’s voice announced, “HUFFLEPUFF GAINS THE LEAD, NEARLY NINETY TO TEN. THIS IS A COMEBACK, HOGWARTS!”

“Come _on_!” grunted Archie, and then the ice broke above Cheryl’s figure and Veronica was at his side, nearly shrieking, “ _accio_ Cheryl!”

The redhead flew from the water, her lips blue and skin paler than normal. Archie dropped his wand and tipped her head back.

Cheryl coughed and choked, and spewed cold water from her mouth. Veronica hurriedly cast a warming charm on her, and scooped up Archie’s wand when Archie pulled Cheryl into his arms, quickly heading back for the shoreline.

A shout from the shore had them looking up and spotting the Headmistress, along with several other professors making their way towards them, quickly.

“It’s going to be okay, Cheryl,” whispered Betty at Archie’s other side, where Cheryl’s head was tipped into his shoulder, her hair dragging heavily over his arm and beginning to freeze. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Things will get better.”

*

The Great Hall was transformed into a wintery wonderland of icicle-dripped evergreens and falling snowflakes that melted long before they touched the heads of the witches and wizards who sat facing where the Head Table usually stood. In its place was a large stage.

It was Friday, the last day of classes. Earlier, Betty and Veronica had visited Cheryl in the Infirmary. She was under Madam Pomfrey’s careful watch, and from what Betty understood, she would be there until the train left the next day. As a resident of Hogsmeade, Cheryl could walk home, but Madam Pomfrey was hesitant to allow the only Blossom child that.

Instead, Veronica spent a few hours talking to Cheryl, with Betty hovering awkwardly behind at the bed over. Cheryl seemed to enjoy Veronica’s company, and eventually Betty left them to talk, leaving to find Jughead.

She spent a few hours curled in his embrace, just enjoying his warmth and company, relieved at the near-miss of Cheryl’s unintentional (or intentional?) suicide attempt. There had been no resolution in his father’s case, other than a quick letter to Jughead earlier that morning, delivered at breakfast, from Harry Potter, which read in chicken scratch, _Reached a deal._

It wasn’t much, but it was something for Jughead to hold onto that his father wasn’t going to remain in the Auror’s hands much longer, and better still, he wasn’t going to Azkaban.

Mayor McCoy strode forward from the corner of the stage in the Great Hall, wearing dark blue robes. She faced the large crowd of students, professors, and Hogsmeade residents, all facing forward towards the stage. Once she reached the middle, she touched her wand tip to her throat and cast _Sonorus_.

“Welcome, one and all, to Hogwart’s Yule Ball!” she enthusiastically cheered, rousing the audience to applaud loudly. From the side, where the professors stood, some seemed rather sombre – like Professors McGonagall and Longbottom, remembering Yule Balls of the past and the fact that one of their students tried to kill herself less than twenty-four hours previously. “I couldn’t be any more thrilled to introduce my daughter, Josie, and her Pussycats, as they perform alongside our local hero, Archie Andrews!”

There was more applause, and Josie met her mother at the middle of the stage, while Val, Melody and Veronica moved to their designated positions: Melody and  Veronica to the side where they would provide backup vocals for Josie, and Val to the keyboard.

Mayor McCoy smiled at her daughter, and then walked off the stage, leaving Josie the center of everyone’s attention.

“Hi,” she greeted, deciding not to use a spell to carry her voice in the now-quiet Hall. “Hi, everyone. We’re switching things up tonight.” She glanced momentarily at her mother, who, at the far corner of the stage and half-hidden by a large evergreen tree, was unseen by the audience. Beside her stood Archie and Betty. Mayor McCoy was staring at her daughter and moving her hands in a frantic ‘no’ movement. “We are singing a song that my boy, Archie Andrews, wrote.”

Archie, clutching tightly at his guitar, gave a very tight-lipped smiled at Betty who nodded encouragingly. She had to give him a tiny push on the shoulder to get him to move out on the stage.

He stopped next to Josie, glancing at her and she playfully rolled her eyes at him. He cleared his throat, turning to the audience.

“G-Good,” his voice cracked and he tried again, “Good evening. I hope you all like this song I wrote. It... has a very special meaning to me, and my friends, given it’s about them. I haven’t always been there for them, this year... and I hope they understand that no matter what, they’re important to me.”

He began to strum, Val matching him on the keyboard, and with Josie watching him for her cues, began into a song Betty had not heard before.

 _“Every moment we’re together..._ ”

Betty gently swayed back and forth, hands clutching her speech and enjoying the calm before she would speak. She watched as her friend began to gain confidence, Archie knowing he was doing something right. Every so often, he would need to remove his right hand from strumming the strings, flexing it as it was barely healed.

The song finished with Josie’s strong voice echoing in the silent Hall.

Loud applause broke it, as well as some cheers. Betty thought she heard Reggie shout, “KILLIN’ IT, ANDREWS,” from the audience, but she wasn’t sure.

Archie shared a pleased (and probably relieved) grin with Josie and then Val. Melody was already walking back towards Betty, and Veronica waited to wait with Archie. Betty’s keen eyes spotted the moment when they reached for each other and laced their fingers together.

With a flick of Professor Flitwick’s wand, and Pussycat’s equipment rose in the air and moved off to the side where they stood behind the evergreen, clearing the stage. Another flick and a podium grew from the wood of the stage, weaving in and out until it was fully formed.

Betty calmly walked forward, nodding her thanks to her favourite professor, who beamed back at her.

She turned to face the crowd of familiar faces. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest and her palms were sweaty when she placed her parchment on the podium, unfurling it to read her careful cursive.

She took a deep breath and began, glancing at the Mayor as she did so. “Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards of Hogsmeade and Britain, I’d like to thank Mayor McCoy for inviting me to speak today.”

She peered out, and saw her parents, bracketing Polly, smile encouragingly up at her. She turned her head slightly and spotted Kevin, in an aisle seat, and then Reggie, further near the front on the other side of the Hall. Far in the back, she spotted the familiar messy black hair of Harry Potter; she blinked in surprise that the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement had come back to Hogwarts.

Betty continued, “Hogwarts, and Hogsmeade, as a long history. Over a thousand years of witches and wizards have passed through this castle’s halls; sat in this Hall. But what is Hogwarts? Hogwarts is more than just magic. It is a thousand years of friendship, of heartbreak, of successful spells. It is a thousand years of the people who passed through the gates. It’s the witches and wizards of magical Britain. It’s you –” she stopped, staring at the audience, “Me – Our friends, and our neighbors in Hogsmeade and beyond.”

She paused again, letting her words sink into the still and silent crowd.

“Hogwarts is Archie Andrews.”

The audience cheered.

“Kevin Keller is Hogwarts.” There was more cheering. “Veronica Lodge, she’s Hogwarts. Each and every one of us is a part of Hogwarts.”

Betty let the cheers die before she continued. “We’re also more than just Hogwarts, because there is more to us than a singular place. We’re magic itself. And you know who else is magical? FP Jones, who we were so quick to blame for Jason’s murder.”

There was a shift in the crowd, the quick change from celebratory cheers to heroes of Hogwarts to being called out.

“Jughead Jones is magical, the very soul of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade,” continued Betty passionately, not even reading from her notes anymore. As she spoke, her eyes were drawn to the back of the Hall, where she saw Jughead standing partially in the shadows, watching her. She smiled at him. “Without him, we may not have ever found out what happened to Jason. And yet how do we thank him? By continuing to drag the Jones’ family through the mud.”

The crowd’s murmurs grew stronger. She knew using the word ‘mud,’ so often connected to their racial slur of ‘mudblood,’ would gain a reaction.

 _Good,_ she thought, almost viciously.

“Which is what we do when the truth gets too ugly in magical Britain. It’s something we’ve always done – reporters out for blood and casting doubt and darkness on those who seek to bring injustice out of the shadows and into the light. It happened before, to Harry Potter. It happened to the war heroes of the Blood War, and it’s happening again to FP Jones.

“The truth is that Clifford Blossom was also Hogsmeade, was also magical Britain,” announced Betty carefully. “Our very home, Hogsmeade, is at a crossroads. If we don’t face the reality of who and what we are, if we keep lying to ourselves and keeping secrets from each other, then what happened to Jason could happen again.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. “Or, Merlin forbid, something even worse. Albus Dumbledore once said that ‘happiness can be found, if only one remembers to turn on the light.’ And in these dark times, Hogwarts. _Hogsmeade_ , must do better. We must do better, and find the light.”

There was silence, and Betty felt her hearth flutter in fear that she had pushed too hard with her speech, and then –

Jughead, far in the back, started to clap, loudly, determinedly.

Kevin immediately shot to his feet, clapping as well.

Then, Reggie was on his feet, two fingers in his mouth as he whistled.

It was like that was all was needed; her parents and Polly were on their feet, cheering and clapping; from the corner of the stage, Veronica beamed at her, clapping furiously with Archie at her side, Josie, Val, and Melody clapping, too, although Mayor McCoy looked sour.

On the other side of the stage, Professor McGonagall was discretely wiping a tear from under her half-lens glasses, giving Betty a rare, proud smile and nod. Professors Longbottom and Hagrid were on their feet, loudly clapping and smiling at her.

The Great Hall was loudly declaring their intentions to do what was right, not was what easy, and Betty had never felt more proud in all her years as a Hogwarts student until that very moment.

*

There were warm and fuzzy feelings floating through her as she sat next to Jughead, his arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly hours later. She felt high from the powerful reception her family, friends, and fellow witches and wizards in Hogsmeade gave her at the end of her speech. And seeing Archie and Veronica across from them – curled neatly around one another – glowing in happiness despite the lingering soreness of Archie’s hand, was a feeling Betty wanted to remember and cherish forever.

The holiday season had officially begun, and she was right where she wanted to be – with her friends. Betty and Jughead had decided to skip the dance part of the Ball, not quite ready to attend after the disastrous Halloween ball; instead, Veronica and Archie, upon learning of their decision, ditched the dance too, joining them at the Three Broomstick.

Jughead, probably sensing her mood, gripped his Butterbeer and hoisted it, in a salute. Betty, Veronica, and Archie followed.

“To Archie Andrews, who saved the cheerleader and saved the town!” toasted Jughead, with only the slightest hint of snark in his tone.

Archie grimaced at Mayor McCoy’s words. “You know what, actually I think it was Betty’s speech.” He turned his Butterbeer towards her, tipping the top of it in her direction. “Here, here – to Betty Cooper!”

Flushed under the praise, and the warm look in Jughead’s eyes, she smiled prettily and demurred, “Cheers.”

“CHEERS!” her three friends chorused loudly, laughing as they clinked their bottles together, laughing a bit as Archie’s exuberance spilled his honey-coloured drink all over the tabletop.

He pouted.

Looking back, Betty would only later be able to recall snippets and moments of that evening at the Three Broomsticks. The memory of that part of the night was like an old film, distorted into sepia with jerkish movements of the players, as the film skipped and jarred in the old projector. The sounds of the evening were filled with laughter and the background noise of the other patrons in the pub – a constant buzz of conversation, broken by loud laughs or jeers or shouts and calls for “just one more, Rosm’rta, dear!”

When she would ask Jughead what he remembered, all he would be able to say was that as dangerous as the world around them had become – with the reveal of Jason’s killer – he felt safe in that booth, a tiny, isolated calm in the storm that was brewing in Hogsmeade and magical Britain.

She remembered Veronica making some excuse about needing to go home, Archie trailing after her, and she remembered the snow-covered walk as she and Jughead wandered away from Hogsmeade and over the bridge towards the south side.

Despite the snow on the ground, the air was humid, building just before the breaking of a storm; a last gasp of the warmer weather before the arctic air swept down into Scotland. The night was cloudy, the clouds hanging low and grey and threatening rain against the backdrop of a bright half moon.

 Jughead silently led Betty up the rickety stairs, using his wand to tap against the trailer door, which swung silently open at his magical command. He stowed the wand back in his holster as he ushered her in, and Betty surveyed the space – which looked every different to the last time she was there.

“Wow, it looks great in here,” she gushed, looking at the clean floor, the coffee table shining and bare of beer cans and Odgen’s bottles. Even the couch had its pillows fluffed and the blanket neatly folded.

Jughead cleared his throat from behind her as she stepped further into the living room, bending and trailing her hand lightly along the coffee table. “I cleaned it up after the Aurors thrashed it. Just in case my dad—”

Betty shook her head, knowing her wavy blonde hair was shimmering in the strands of light that came through the blinds. “ _Until_ he gets out, Jug. I’m not giving up on him, and if you can’t believe Harry Potter, then I don’t even know _what_ we can believe.”

There was a catch, something strange in Jughead’s voice that had Betty stilling. “Hell no. That is why I love you, Betty.”

She turned, her eyes wide. He stood before her, his head bare of his beanie, which was thrown, discarded on the floor near the foot of the couch. His face was open, vulnerable in a way she had never seen before: his eyes were wide, the blue nearly overtaken by blown pupils, and there was a minute tremble that shook his entire form.

“I love you, Betty Cooper,” he said, his voice low, sweet. His lips twitched into a small, genuine smile.

Unbidden, an answering smile of her own appeared on her lips, and she let her eyes roam lovingly across his face, stepping forward. “Jughead Jones. I love you.”

The air between them crackled with electricity – but they hung motionless, suspending in time for a brief moment when all they did was look at each other, breathing heavily and taking in each other.

Then, Jughead surged forward and she moved to meet him, his hand coming up to grab at the back of her neck and tangling his fingers securely into her hair. She reached for him, clutching desperately at his shirt, bunching the fabric up against his back.

He took that as a wordless command and drew back enough so that he could pull his sweater off, and in return, Betty greedily ran her hands down his chest, fingers fluttering against familiar muscles as they bunched and trembled under her touch. In reply, Jughead’s mouth descended on hers furiously, his lips licking and begging for entrance immediately. She opened her mouth and welcomed him in, stroking and dueling against his tongue and tasting the remnants of Butterbeer on him, mixed with his own unique _Jughead_ ness that she swooned.

Jughead’s arm hauled her tight against him, and they stumbled back, him leading her as he nipped at her bottom lip, soothing the sharp sting with his tongue after.

She whimpered.

She was dizzy, gasping against his mouth, her knees weak, completely overwhelmed and taken by his lips, his hands, his scent, his body. At some point, she lost her jacket and shoes, standing in the rapidly warming living room in just her skirt and camisole.

Jughead’s hand from her neck slipped down, a sensuous slide down her back, ghosting across her bum, and then –

She squealed.

His hands were gripping just under the curve of her bum, on her bare thighs. She swooned at the feeling of cold metal from his wand holster against the warmth of her, as well as the slide of leather against her skin.

With a grin, Jughead squeezed and then hoisted her against him. Betty’s legs came up instinctively, wrapping around his hips and locking her ankles together behind his back.

Jughead inhaled sharply at the feel of her heat against the hardness in his jeans, and a tiny mewl of pleasure escaped Betty’s mouth at the sensation. His mouth came down on her neck, and she tilted her head back.

Jughead licked and then sucked, never staying long in one spot as he moved up towards her cheek and then over her mouth again, all the while walking them around the living room into the kitchen, until they arrived where he wanted, placing her not-so-gently on the kitchen countertop.

In the same moment as plopping her down, he surged forward for her mouth. Heat overtook her and breathlessly, she reached down and yanked her shirt up and over in a quick move. She caught the grin on his face and he laughed breathlessly.

Their hands tangled and hit each other as they went for his belt; then, his hands were back on her, his mouth against hers, and her hands were on his shoulders. They couldn’t stop touching, stroking or squeezing, but they were both eager to progress.

Loud bangs on the door of the trailer was the equivalent of someone casting _Aguamenti_ on them.

“Merlin!” Betty tore her mouth from Jughead’s eyes wide as she stared at the door.

Although he kept his arms around her, warm in his embrace, he too had turned partially to look over his shoulder at the offending door and noise.

“Is that your mom?” he gasped, partially in fear and partially in annoyance.

“Who else would it be?” she hissed.

Jughead carefully pulled back from her, his hands on her hips helping her to slide to the floor of the kitchen.

The knocks continued.

Jughead bent and reached for his discarded sweater, and despite it being inside out, pulled it on. Betty was struck by the white of the tag on the collar hanging out.

Carefully, his wand slid from his holster. He held the wand up, at waist level, and pointed at the door. He eased it open, peering out. The wand tip dropped in surprise.

From where Betty stood, she saw Jughead step forward onto the rickety front step and stand straight, his eyes moving back and forth in confusion. His sweater was quickly damp in the sputtering drizzle that began while they were inside, a damp rain that began to curl the ends of his hair.

Betty stepped forward and grabbed her jacket, drawing it on to protect her modesty, and tilted her head to listen.

A dog barked.

“Easy, Hot Dog. He’s family,” someone said, the voice fairly youthful.

“Hey,” another voice said. It was rough but kind. “Heard your dad could have named names but didn’t. Serpents take care of their own. We wanted you to know, no matter what happens to him, however long he’s gone, we’ve got your back.”

There was a pause, and Betty took another step forward, able to see Jughead fully from where she stood near the door. He glanced down at something and then back up at the speaker. There was indecision in his eyes.

The same voice continued, as if sensing Jughead’s thoughts and giving him a choice. “This is yours, if you want it.”

With that, Jughead’s arm reached forward and grabbed the item, and with wide eyes, Betty watched as he slung a heavy, thick leather jacket up and over in one smooth motion, his arms sliding into the sleeves. He was looking down, unable to see her, when he grabbed the front of the jacket by the lapels, yanking it down so the shoulders sat correctly on him.

He looked up, a small, open-mouth smile beginning to grow on his lips as he looked at those who stood before him, a glint in his eyes that she had never seen before.

Her breath hitched as she saw the stitching on the back, the cobra and the white lettering of _Southside Serpents_.

“Juggie?” Her voice was tiny, confused.

He turned to face her, surprised by her calling his name.

Lightning flashed across the dark night, and then thunder cracked, breaking the sky open. The drizzly rain during into a downpour of heavy, cold bullets splashing down.

And as the confident smirk slipped off his face, just as the raindrops slid off him, Betty felt her heart clench in her chest – in fear, in worry, in despair, maybe even in pleasure or desire.

She wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t sure about a lot of things, including whether or not things would ever be the same in Hogsmeade, ever again.

* * *

Not so far away, the next morning, Archie Andrews strolled into the Three Broomstick’s for breakfast with his father, a relaxed and happy grin on his face.

“Well, look what the kneazle dragged in,” said Fred, from his spot in a booth halfway along the side wall. From behind the bar, Madam Rosmerta saluted Archie with a dishrag. “Good night, Casanova?”

Archie flushed heavily. “It was fine, dad.”

“I went and already ordered for you,” said Fred. “I’ve got some things I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?” asked Archie, not yet sitting down. “Give me a sec then, I’m going to go wash my hands.”

“Alright, son,” his father replied, and Archie travelled down the familiar side hall to the little wizard’s room. He took a moment to survey his face in the mirror – which thankfully was silent – as he washed his hands clean, still a bit sticky from remnants of the previous night.

A muffled noise caught his attention, and with confusion, he turned the tap off and paused.

Another shout, and Archie frowned, stepping out of the toilet and then down the darkened hallway. He peered out towards the pub floor and his heart dropped somewhere near his feet, frozen as terror crept through him.

A wizard in black robes and Death Eater mask – something he only knew of from pages in his history book as well as back-order issues of the _Prophet_ – stood near the bar, his wand pointed at Rosmerta whose face had drawn pale. Her hands shook.

“Look – just – whatever you want,” her voice stuttered and trembled, “Take it. Take the Galleons, please!”

Archie’s eyes drifted to his father, facing him. He wordlessly shook his head.

 _But... I can’t_ not _do something,_ thought Archie desperately. Unbidden, words from long ago rose in his mind, the raspy voice of the Sorting Hat: _“I think you’ll have to get used to things changing much sooner than you anticipate, Mr. Andrews.”_

He took a step forward before he realized what he had done, his wand slipping from the inside sleeve of his Quidditch jersey. His knuckles were white in his tight grip, and he shakily brought his wand arm up to point at the Death Eater.

Fred leapt out from the booth, towards his son and getting in between him and the Death Eater.

Everything happened so fast – Archie didn’t have time to process it – and it became a blur of words and noise and colour.

 _“Sectumsempra_!”

A splash of red.

Warm blood splattering across his face.

Fred Andrews lying on the dirty floor of the Three Broomsticks, face paling as blood pooled out under and around him from various slashes that shredded his jeans, sweater, and jacket.

Madam Rosmerta screaming, her face in the Floo, requesting help from St. Mungo’s.

The Death Eater running out the main entrance, shouting, “ _Morsmordre_!”

And the Dark Mark, hanging low in the sky above the Three Broomsticks, on the pale winter morning.

*

_Imagine this instant, frozen in time._

_People will look back at this as the exact moment that last bit of Hogsmeade’s – and magical Britain’s – innocence finally and truly died; when the remnants of darkness regained their strength, and won._

_Marked by an act of violence, that was anything_ but _random_.

*

FIN

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 192,828 words.  
> 24 chapters, overall.  
> 322 pages, single space in Word.
> 
>  _The Darkest of Times_ is officially my longest completed fanfic, **ever** in any fandom. I began it in April, and finished it in August, and it was my first foray into the Riverdale + Bughead fandom. I was welcomed and encouraged, and I love you all.
> 
> Will we see more of this universe? Will there be a sequel? Hopefully. Eventually. Probably not until 2018, as I will want to plan things out. There are changes that will be different from the show, and I am going in a different direction. If you'd like to know the writing process behind the scenes of this story, I'll be putting my Google Drive link on Tumblr sometime in the coming week.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in your comments or drop my a line on my [tumblr](http://writing-as-tracey.tumblr.com)! I am always happy to hear your thoughts. Thanks for the ride, everyone. I'll see you at my other stories.


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